The War on the Edge of Forever
by Danzinora Switch
Summary: When Dr. McCoy, overdosed on cordrazine, vanishes through the Guardian of Forever, he winds up in 1940's Germany. Kirk and Spock chase after him and quickly find themselves prisoners in Stalag 13, which holds more secrets than expected. Story idea by LittleMissSpitfire; many thanks to her and CollieandShire for letting me write this!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First crossover! And a thousand, million thank-you's to LittleMissSpitfire and CollieandShire for letting me write this gem of an idea. My schedule was a bit delayed by moving to college, and as such updates may also lag a little with the new routine, but I've finally got the first chapter done and have begun the second. I own nothing. NOTHING! Kirk and Spock's serial numbers were obtained from Memory Alpha. Please enjoy, dear fans!**

* * *

Jim Kirk had trouble on his mind. He paced back and forth, his boots kicking up fine pale dust wherever he trod. At times, he resisted the urge to growl.

 _Bones, no!_

"How much longer?" He didn't mean to snap but he couldn't help it. His ship was missing- wiped from history and current existence. All he had were a few members from his crew and an enigmatic time portal.

"A few moments, Captain," Spock replied, never removing his eyes from the tricorder. Recorded images zipped by on the tiny screen, though the Vulcan was more interested in the timestamp.

"Make sure we arrive _before_ McCoy," Kirk said, his mind already ten steps ahead. He stared unfocused at the Guardian of Forever, watching as the scenes of Earth's history played by again.

History that was now forever changed.

It must have been the stimulating effects of the cordrazine. Kirk hadn't seen anyone else recover that quickly from a Vulcan nerve pinch. The deranged doctor had darted away from them, bee-lining for the time portal. Kirk had snagged his shirt but only managed to slow, not stop, him. In an instant he had vanished into the past… and apparently altered it.

So Kirk had trouble on his mind. He was concerned for his overdosed friend, and he had a mission to rectify the timeline and restore his ship. There could be no failure.

Spock snapped the tricorder closed, but the focused look never left his eyes. Kirk tensed. "Ready… _now_."

They leapt through the portal, both determined to set things right.

* * *

The first thing that hit Kirk was the cold. It wasn't freezing, just chillier than he was used to. He stumbled as he landed on uneven ground, slipping and sliding in dead leaves and loose soil. Spock gripped his elbow to steady him on the incline. "Thanks."

He frowned as he took stock of their surroundings. Before him stretched out extensive woods. Despite the chill, there was extensive undergrowth and greenery, indicating that it was at least summer or springtime in this part of the world. They were either located on a far northern latitude or a far southern one.

"Alright," he muttered. "The middle of nowhere."

"Captain." He turned around and blinked. Behind where they had materialized was a long chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Beyond it appeared to be some sort of factory. Spock walked further down the fence, scanning it with his tricorder. Kirk trailed after him, scrutinizing the distant plant. It was remarkably drab, and offered no clues as to where, or when, they were.

He nearly bumped into his first officer when Spock paused before a sign attached to the fence. Kirk looked it over, his eyes lingering on the largest word, VERBOTEN.

"Well, that's not English," he mused.

"German, Captain, from the classic era judging by the lack of Turkish influence," Spock reported. He flipped off the tricorder and stared at the factory. "Mid twentieth century, most likely."

That trouble came back a'knockin' on Kirk's mind, sending shivers down through his bones. "Mid twentieth century Germany, Spock?" he repeated. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"I am aware of your history, Captain."

Kirk dragged a hand across his face and mumbled a curse. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought."

Spock furrowed his brow. "We should endeavor to find suitable clothing as quickly as possible. As it stands, we are far too conspicuous."

"I know," Kirk started walking again, keeping the fence to his left. "Where there's a working factory there's civilization. It's a start. Don't talk to _anyone_ unless you know German."

"Regrettably, I am not as proficient as Lt. Uhura."

"Who is?"

They crunched on the dead leaves as they walked around the fenced-in factory. Both kept an eye out for possible patrols, but they seemed to be on the far side of civilization and thus, danger. Before too long a dirt road led them to small, though sizable, town. They pressed close to edges, trying to stick to the shadows.

Spock nudged him and pointed to a sign saying VELKOMMEN! "Hammelburg, Captain," he murmured. Kirk only nodded in response.

The town seemed small, but neither were used to 20th century cities. They ducked between buildings and tried to avoid the streets. Nearly every storefront displayed the ominous image of the swastika. Kirk shivered, inwardly blaming it on the cold. This certainly wasn't Ekos. This was where it all began.

Spock nudged him and pointed towards some clotheslines. Kirk glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Moving quickly, they darted into the alley and made off with the pile. Spock immediately donned a wool cap and tucked the tricorder within his coat.

After dumping their uniforms in a garbage can, the two of them dared to brave the streets. Keeping their heads down, they wandered the town. Maybe there was a clue on where McCoy would end up. Or maybe they could find a place to stay.

They passed what seemed to be a bar where several soldiers languished out front. They joked and laughed, clearly enjoying a day off. Their rifles gleamed in the weak sunlight.

One of them called out to Kirk, but he just shoved his hands further in his pockets and kept walking. He called out again. Spock leaned in and murmured into his ear "I believe they're asking some sort of question."

Their uninterested attitude did not dissuade the soldier as he got up and ran after them, tapping Kirk on the shoulder. He turned around and took in the man's angular, flushed face. "Wo hast du Hemd kaufst?"

He repeated himself a few more times, fingering Kirk's stolen shirt as the captain shifted uncomfortably. Was he asking where he got it? How the hell could he answer?

Kirk became uniquely aware of his dependence on a universal translator.

The soldier became miffed, shaking him. Spock edged closer. Kirk shook his head repeatedly, holding up his hands. "Nein," he mumbled, trying to remember whatever 'please' was in German. The shaking drew a crowd as the other soldiers wandered over. A few citizens cast furtive glances their way before hurrying on, while others stopped and stared openly on the street.

The soldier turned to Spock, demanding answers. The situation was escalating. "Ha?" the soldier pressed. "Woher kommst Sie?"

Backing away didn't work- the other soldiers had closed in. Kirk and Spock crowded together. "Verstanden?" the man demanded.

"Papiers!" another soldier called. It was similar enough to English that both men stiffened. They had no papers. No money, nothing. Kirk slowly made a show of pulling out his empty pockets. Spock followed suit, hoping that the reaction, at least, implied that they understood enough German to obey the command.

Ultimately it did not matter. The negative reaction over their lack of papers promptly spiraled downhill until they found themselves loaded on the back of a truck with the first soldier pointing his gun at them with a cock-eyed grin.

"Amerikaner, eh? Escaped prisoners? Good thing I caught you; now Kommandant Klink may give me an extended leave. Good times, ja?"

"Yes," Kirk trailed, letting go of the act. He glanced at Spock. "Good times."

The corporal banged on the truck, hopped on, and they sped off.

* * *

Both men perked up as the truck slowed down. There were shouts and rapid German, and after a moment they were moving again. Kirk craned his neck to try and catch a name on the gates but missed. At the very least, the barbed wire surrounding them indicated this was a prisoner of war camp. He glanced at Spock. This wasn't good.

The truck stopped again and they were ordered out of the back. Before them was a drab building. A heavyset German waddled quickly up to them, one hand grasping his helmet and the other awkwardly holding his rifle. Kirk snickered.

"Langenscheidt! Was ist los?" the big soldier called.

The soldier who had stopped them saluted back. "Escaped prisoners!"

Spock nudged him and they started inching their way towards the front of the truck. Kirk's mind was racing furiously. Perhaps they could steal the truck, overpower the clumsy soldier, and race out of here-

The door to the building before them opened and a stooped, pelican-looking man in a long coat and riding crop stepped out. Kirk and Spock halted. This must be the commandant.

"Schultz! Report!"

The portly sergeant quickly saluted. "Kommandant, escaped prisoners!"

The colonel looked them up and down in almost exaggerated fashion. "Well, I don't recognize them! They're not from this camp, Schultz, how do you know they escaped?"

"Well, I, eh, uh, Langenscheidt found them," Schultz struggled.

The corporal quickly saluted. "Jawohl, in Hammelburg. They both speak English!"

The commandant quickly looked back at them. "Do you?" he asked.

Kirk weighed his options but found no reason to lie. "Yes," he answered curtly.

The older man straightened with a peculiar flapping motion with his arms. Kirk's impressions of the man were not entirely respectful- he seemed to be of rather weak standing despite his pompousness. "Take them to my office! Corporal, you have earned an extra day of leave. Diiiiiiismissed!"

Led through the drab building, they passed an outer office before coming to colonel's personal desk. A placard on top of it read WILHELM KLINK. Kirk and Spock glanced at each other as the man busied himself with sitting down and reorganizing papers. Schultz shut the door.

"Now, let's see, getting down to business, where are your papers?"

"We have none," Kirk replied, staying with his command voice. He and Spock would either have to outwit this colonel (which would probably prove very easy) or otherwise evade him if they wished to escape. Their situation would in no way help them when McCoy would finally appear.

"Hmm," Klink said, as if he were on to something. "I see." He held up a pencil as he squinted at them through his monocle. "Langenscheidt said you were escaped prisoners. But I've heard no reports from any of the other prison camps. Where are you from? Or were you shot down?"

Kirk opened his mouth to reply but was cut off when the door abruptly opened and an American colonel strode in. Schultz belatedly moved to intercept but the dark-haired man was already running his mouth.

"Kommandant, I want to know why I wasn't invited to this little chit-chat with the new guys, according to the _Geneva Convention_ the Senior POW must be present for all interrogations- we've had this conversation before, Colonel, and at this point it's just insulting that you keep leaving me out; hi, Col. Robert Hogan, nice to meet you." Without break Hogan shook each of their hands as Klink stuttered to get word in edge-wise.

"Hogan! You'll be held in insubordination if you keep barging in like this!"

"Well, I wouldn't need to barge in if you'd invited me in the first place," Hogan replied innocently.

To Kirk and Spock's surprise, Klink just huffed. Pointing the pencil eraser back at them, he tried to muster his authority. "Now I want to know how exactly you ended up in Hammelburg-"

"Name, rank and serial number," Hogan interrupted. Kirk studied him carefully- for all his nonchalance, there was the faintest hint of concealed motive that made Kirk pay closer attention.

Spock waited for him to make the first move. "Captain James T. Kirk," he spoke. "Serial number SC937-0176CEC."

"Commander Spock Grayson." Kirk quashed his intrigue and surprise, but was also proud of his first officer's quick thinking. Amanda's surname was genius. "Serial number S 179-276 SP."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, I see," Klink mused, unaware that his face had slipped into the expression of a constipated toddler. "Nothing else? No command units, or anything?"

"Not for you."

"And the civilian clothing?"

"No comment."

Klink grew flustered. "Well, whether you were just shot down or escaped from another POW camp I'll have you know that you will not escape from this one! No prisoner ever escapes Stalag 13! Right, Hogan?"

"That's right."

Spock filed away the timed response. "We'll see," Kirk replied quietly.

The pencil dropped to the desk. "Very well! Schultz! Take them to the delousing station." Klink wagged a finger at them. "We'll figure out your story yet. Diiismissed! Hogan! I want you and your men to start preparing two bunks in Barracks 3…" the voices died down as they were led away by Schultz.

"Thoughts, Captain?" Spock asked lowly.

"Robert Hogan…" Kirk muttered. "I seem to remember a name like that from old history books… but I can't be sure _why_."

Spock nodded. "There is a cruiser in Starfleet registry named the _Robert E. Hogan_. There is a chance they are one and the same."

"Hey Schultz!" They turned and saw Hogan running up to meet them. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a candy bar. "Mind if I talk to them for a couple minutes?"

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz pleaded longingly. "One of these days I _really_ must do my job!"

"And let a perfectly good candy bar go to waste?" Hogan casually waved it under the man's nose. "Come on, Schultz, it's just two minutes. Just enough time to finish all... this… chocolate."

They watched silently as Schultz's resolve crumbled and he turned away, devouring the candy bar. Hogan approached them, all chipper demeanor dropped. "So how did Langenscheidt get a hold of you two?"

Kirk looked at Spock briefly before forging ahead. "We got shot down," he said shortly. "Knowing how conspicuous we'd be in uniform we ditched them and stole some civilian clothes. We were caught almost immediately after doing so."

Hogan nodded solemnly. "You're lucky you weren't shot as spies."

"Indeed," Spock said.

For a moment, Hogan looked like he was about to say something else before deciding against it. "Well. We'll have your bunks ready for you in Barracks 3 when you get out. Some uniforms that should fit you, too, though the ranks may mismatch. They'll get your dimensions when you're deloused."

Kirk's eyes widened as the full implications hit him. He glanced at the hat Spock wore, and the discrete bulge in his coat where the tricorder rested. "We'll need a hat for my friend. He had an… unfortunate, botched… surgery," he finished lamely.

"Oh?"

Motioning to Spock, the Vulcan carefully tipped his hat revealing the points on his ears. "Well, that is striking," Hogan commented. "Does it affect your hearing?"

"Negative."

"Then don't worry about it. Alright, it seems our two minutes are up." He bade a hasty farewell before turning them back over to Schultz. It seemed unusual, but neither man had time to dwell on it.

Kirk leaned in close. "You have to hide the tricorder."

"I shall attempt to do so," Spock whispered back.

"That's about all we can do." Squaring his shoulders, Kirk entered the delousing station.

* * *

 **Reviews are appreciated! Thank you :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you, all, for those reviews! I've had a pretty good weekend for writing so got this up in next to no time (although some of you were already guessing next events, lol). Please enjoy!**

* * *

"Well, Colonel?"

Hogan jerked his head. "Carter, watch the door."

"Right boy! I mean, Colonel." He hurried to the wooden plank and barely cracked it open, peering out across the compound.

"Do you think they're legitimate?" Kinch asked.

"I'm not sure," Hogan rubbed his hand under his chin. "It sounded like they were telling the truth, but also hiding something." He crossed his arms.

"Anything in particular?"

"The second one, Grayson, said his rank was 'Commander'. That's a naval term."

"The navy?" LeBeau exclaimed. "What are they doing _here_?"

"That's what I don't get," Hogan pointed out. "Kinch, radio London and try to get a mission report for the last, oh, 48 hours in the region. If they were shot down anywhere around here why weren't we notified?"

"On it." Carter suddenly turned around. "Newkirk's back." He opened the door and let the Englander in. Kinch paused on his way to the trapdoor to see what news he brought.

"What'd you find from their clothes?" Hogan inquired.

Newkirk shrugged. "Civilian, made in Germany, definitely from Hammelburg," he replied. "That much fits their narrative."

"But?"

Newkirk glanced at Carter who double-checked that it was clear outside. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small black box with a long strap attached to it. "I pulled this from one of their coats. Never seen anything like it before."

They all crowded around the object; Hogan motioned for Kinch to return. LeBeau poked at it. "Is it a radio of some kind?"

Gingerly, Kinch lifted it up. Fiddling around, he suddenly flipped back the top part of the device. A few small buttons and a readout display sat on the metal. He moved to press one of the buttons, but Hogan's hands suddenly stopped him.

"We don't know if that's a bomb or something else just as dangerous," he cautioned. "Store it in the tunnel for now and we'll take a proper look at it when we have some safety protocols set up. In the meantime, I want _nobody_ to mention anything about the operation around our new friends, got it? We still have some tests to run."

"You think they're spies, Colonel?" Carter asked from the door.

Hogan shook his head. "I'm not sure yet. Krauts normally give their informants airtight stories, and theirs have holes big enough to fly a plane through." He started pacing slowly across the room. "Captain Kirk and Commander Grayson… definitely sounds naval, though we haven't heard of any naval operations in this area, much less of anyone getting shot down. They steal civilian clothes… and all this time they're carrying some kind of black box." He stopped and shook his head. "We'll sound them out over the next few days. Kinch, try and get that info from London. The rest of you, the normal feelers. I want to know more about these guys."

* * *

Kirk met Spock behind the barracks, keeping an eye on the other prisoners playing anything from football to checkers. "Have you found it yet?" he asked quickly.

"Negative," Spock replied.

Kirk resisted the urge to punch something and roughly shoved his fists in his pockets. The uniform jacket was slightly big, but otherwise fit. Spock's wrists poked out just a half-inch further from his sleeves, but true to his word Hogan had provided a hat to cover his pointed ears. He was beginning to wish that he had asked for one as well; there was a bite in the air that never seemed to go away. It was their third day in the camp and he was getting more antsy by the hour. The random trivia from some of the prisoners didn't help, either, as he was almost certain they were testing the legitimacy of their tale. How could he possibly know the batting average of a 1940's baseball player? They needed to get out of here and _quickly_.

"Spock, we've _got_ to find that tricorder or else we risk altering history as well!"

"I know, Captain."

"Not to mention that it holds the key to determining _when_ and _where_ McCoy will show up-"

"Jim." Spock's voice was clipped. "I am aware of the situation."

Kirk took a deep breath and faced his first officer. "I know," he exhaled. "My apologies, Spock."

"Unnecessary, Captain."

Forgiven, Kirk forged back on their train of thought. "We've already checked all the guards," he muttered, remembering their careful and quick investigations into the slack quarters. "Unless they've got a secret locker somewhere I'm actually ready to rule them out. Could a prisoner have taken it?"

Spock tilted his head. "For a prisoner to have snuck into the station and rifled through our clothes they would have required considerable stealth. I did not see nor hear anyone. Besides, there is also motive: for what reason would a prisoner need to raid strangers' personal affects?"

"Thief," Kirk suggested. "Or something bigger. Something's off about this camp, haven't you noticed?"

"Indeed." Spock faced back towards the compound. "Despite the poor performance of the guards and the commandant, there have apparently been no escapes. The prisoners do not even seem to be trying."

"And what does that tell you, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan considered the possibilities. "Either they are cowed in some fashion we have yet to learn about. There could be a greater, unspoken threat, for example. Or they are colluding with the enemy."

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Spock, I don't think that's the case," Kirk said at last.

"Intuition?"

"Maybe, partly." Kirk pushed away from the barracks and paced a couple steps away. "It's Robert Hogan. I _know_ I've read about his name before, and if you're right that that cruiser is named after him then it would suggest that he's one of the good guys. Spock, you saw him successfully bribe Schultz- it's like he does it all the time! I think if we want to know exactly what's going on here we would find out from him."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "If you are correct, then it may validate a temporal theory, Captain. It is estimated that time flows like a river, with various eddies, currents, and focal points of important historical events. If the colonel did indeed go down in history, it is possible that he is the focal point to which we were drawn."

Kirk's head snapped up. "And if we were drawn here, then do you think McCoy will be drawn here as well?"

"It is possible." Spock paused in reflection. "Of course, I cannot confirm any of these theories without the tricorder, nor without means to connect the tricorder to a computer to adequately slow down the recorded images."

Kirk put a hand on his shoulder as he picked up on the Vulcan equivalent of futile frustration. "One thing at a time, Spock. First we'll find the tricorder, then we'll worry about hooking it up. Now, there are hundreds of prisoners here- I'd hate to search every one. Is there anybody else who might possibly have it?"

"It is likely one of the guards could have turned it in to the commandant," Spock realized.

Kirk grinned. "Of course! Klink! Spock, I think we've got a plan."

* * *

LeBeau was "reading" in front of the barracks. His eyes continuously darted up from his book to take note of the activities before him. So far all was well- except there was no sign of Kirk or Grayson.

In the prior two days they had watched as duo carefully (and successfully) infiltrated the guards' barracks only to return empty-handed. Hogan had immediately deduced that they were searching for that same black box, which meant that it was important enough that they wouldn't escape without it. They stuck closely together, and didn't interact with any of the other prisoners, which made conversation difficult.

LeBeau returned to his book only to realize in disgust that it was upside-down. As he quickly flipped it, he noticed two figures emerge from around barracks 3. There they were. He watched them cross towards the kommandant's office and Grayson disappear behind it. Kirk leaned against the building, playing casual. Two moments later he could hear Klink shouting something from outside his quarters in the back. Kirk pushed off the wall and disappeared inside.

The Frenchman closed his book and went to go tell Hogan.

* * *

Kirk swiftly entered the outer office and froze. A beautiful, blonde woman sat at the desk. She wasn't there before. He was stunned for only a moment before putting on his legendary, charming smile.

"Hello," he said smoothly. "I don't believe we've met."

She rubbed her neck and glanced down briefly, a soft smile touching her lips. "No, I don't think so."

He walked over and gently kissed the top of her hand. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk."

She blushed and withdrew. "Hilda."

Kirk smiled again. "It's very nice to meet you, Hilda. Do you by any chance know if the commandant is in?"

"Well, he should be," she mentioned. She had a very smooth, melodic voice that vaguely reminded him of Uhura. "But there was a ruckus just a moment ago, so I do not know if that called him away or not."

"Well, how about I find out, is that okay, Hilda?"

"Of course," she blushed again. "Go right ahead."

Kirk winked at her and stepped carefully into Klink's office. Good. Spock was still keeping him distracted. Fast and efficient, he rifled through the desk drawers and filing cabinet. Nothing. No tricorder. There was a box on the desk but it was full of cigars. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, quickly shutting it. That's when he noticed the safe in the corner. If Klink had the tricorder it would no doubt be there.

Time was running out, however. He and Spock could probably sneak back in at night and crack it. He straightened everything quickly and pulled the door open back to the front office.

Directly across from him was Hogan entering from the outside.

They took in the sight of one another similarly as each man carefully shut his door. Hilda glanced between them and slowly scooted back in her chair.

Hogan spoke first. "Are you looking for something, Captain?"

Kirk jerked his head back the way he came. "Thought Klink was in."

The colonel didn't quite nod, but watched him openly with his dark eyes. "What did you need to see him for?"

Any lesser man may have been stuck, but Kirk wasn't captain of the _Enterprise_ if he couldn't think on his feet. "There's sawdust in the bread."

Hogan's shoulders relaxed but Kirk still picked up the tension in his feet. He knew the man didn't trust him but Kirk would have to get close to him if he was going to figure out why he was so important in history. "All complaints go through me, first," Hogan informed.

He nodded and dipped his head. "My apologies; I'll remember that next time." He tried to sound earnest; he didn't want this man as an enemy. Of course, the behavior may just serve to confuse him further… man, this was a mess…

Kirk kept his hands to his side as he crossed to the outer door. He winked at Hilda, who did not quite blush this time, and stepped around Hogan. The man's face was unreadable, save for the almost audible sound of gears turning in his head. Kirk left quickly.

* * *

"Well, they definitely want that box."

Newkirk and LeBeau nodded. "When is Carter going to be ready with that thing?" LeBeau asked. "He's had plenty of time to set up a testing area."

"I don't want this rushed, LeBeau. A mystery device isn't worth someone's life just because we couldn't wait to establish a good containment system." Hogan picked up the pot and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn't mention that he was also annoyed by Kirk's mild flirtation with Hilda- it rubbed at him in a sharper way than he'd expected.

"Colonel, why haven't we just, I dunno, _asked_ them what it does?" Newkirk pondered. He deftly fiddled with two decks of cards as he spoke.

"I would if I believed they would tell me the truth." He took a long swig of the coffee and grimaced. "Until then we can reverse engineer this thing on our own."

The trapdoor swung open and Hogan motioned for LeBeau to watch the door. Kinch climbed up, a piece of paper in hand alongside his customary "Message from London, Colonel."

"About our friends?"

He shook his head. "'Fraid not. They say they haven't sent any missions our way in that timeframe Army or Naval, and so far haven't been able to produce any records of a Captain James T. Kirk or a Commander Spock Grayson. But while they were at it they did give us this." He passed the note to Hogan who read it with a furrowed brow.

"Of course they would," he muttered.

"Trouble, Colonel?" Newkirk stopped shuffling the cards.

"They want us to hit the ball-bearing factory outside Hammelburg." He crumpled the paper and pocketed it.

"Apparently their flyers are stretched thin at the moment," Kinch elaborated. "A bunch of missions got reorganized."

"And they want us to take out that bloody plant for them, marvelous," Newkirk rolled his eyes.

"At least we've got two weeks to do it." Hogan finished his coffee in one gulp.

"Yeah, two weeks for recon, getting and planting explosives…" LeBeau muttered by the door.

Kinch leaned against the bunk and after a moment snapped his fingers. "Oh, Colonel, Carter's about finished sealing off a section to one of the tunnels; he said you could come down to watch the first test of the box."

"Well, by all means-" Newkirk and LeBeau were already hurrying to the bunk, almost tripping over each other in their eagerness. Hogan shook his head, put down his mug, and followed his men down into the tunnels. Perhaps now they would at least get a few answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello! Thank you, everyone, for those reviews! This chapter has been updated- things took a different direction in the next chapter than planned so I combined some of it here. Also, to 'Guest'- could you please be more specific? I have no idea what you're implying. But enough about technicalities- enjoy!**

* * *

There was a tiny alcove that Carter had braced as best he could with what was available. Sitting on a small table in the middle of the space was the black box with its top flipped up. The men crowded around the amateur chemist as he flexed the long set of tongs.

"Now, no promises if something still happens," he warned. The others nodded in understanding and Carter took a deep breath. Slowly, the tongs moved forward to grip the head of the box. One side touched the back, the other was braced over the first button.

"Here goes." Everyone cringed as he slowly applied pressure.

A high-pitched whirring noise filled the tunnel.

"What's that?"

"I don't know!"

"Turn it off, now," Hogan instructed sternly. Carter complied and, after a brief echo, silence returned.

"Think it's a homing beacon?" Kinch asked, catching on.

"I'm not sure, but I don't want to the take chance of Klink or the Gestapo picking it up." He moved closer and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carter. "And the other buttons?"

They tested them, but nothing seemed to happen. After deeming that at the very least it wouldn't explode, they crept forward and examined it more closely.

Kinch sighed. "Well, if it is a radio, it's not like any one _I've_ seen."

"Me neither," Hogan said. He glanced at his watch; it was almost evening roll call. "Well, gentlemen, I expect we'd better get back before we're missed. Carter, you can take that thing out of its area since it won't explode."

"You got it boy! Colonel!"

As the men filed past each other Hogan caught Newkirk's shoulder and casually drew him aside. "Newkirk," he began. "Our two friends are planning a little adventure into Klink's safe- would you mind keeping an eye on them?"

The Englander shrugged in consideration. "Well, someone's got to keep the competition under control. Can't have anyone uppin' me'reputation."

Hogan grinned. "Great."

* * *

The night was cold and Spock was having trouble with it. Normally he could handle extreme temperatures pretty well, but after days of cold combined with a poor prison diet (where most of the _nutrients_ came from meat, unfortunately) he was wearing thin. He stuck it out stoically, however, and they would only be outside for a moment.

Even the moon looked cold.

Kirk waited out in the office to keep watch while Spock slipped inside Klink's. He knelt down next to the large safe, removed his hat, and pressed his sensitive ear against the metal. It burned cold, but only for a moment. Quickly, he spun the dial and listened for the tiny tell-tale clicks.

He was inside in a flash.

The tricorder was not there. Spock frowned. It was… disappointing. Without it they could not accurately judge when McCoy would arrive nor what he would do. Resigned (though not admitting it) he closed the safe and retreated back to Kirk.

They were nearly out the door when Kirk pointed out that he'd left his hat in Klink's office.

An embarrassing error, should he feel embarrassment. He trudged back inside to where it was laying on the floor by the safe.

Except, there was a man next to it.

Spock froze. The man froze. They stared at each other for several moments in the dark.

Spock reacted first. He pointed at the ground. "I am here to collect my hat."

The man… he recognized him as one of the few who stayed close to Colonel Hogan. He was British, Spock knew that much. Newkirk was his name, that was it. The man glanced down to the hat and tossed it to him.

"There ya go, mate, lovely night for some safe-cracking, huh?"

"It would appear so."

"Find anything good?"

"Negative."

"Shame," the man whistled. A few more twists on the safe and it popped open. Newkirk shook his head. "Cor, you're right. Bloomin' shame." He shut the door, then hopped up and opened the cigar box on Klink's desk. "You take one of these yet?"

"I do not smoke."

Newkirk's eyes bugged in the moonlight. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"It is cancerous."

He waved him off. "That's an old wives' tale."

"It is not old wives telling the tale."

Newkirk paused. "That's… mate, that's not exactly how it works."

"That is where the phrase originates."

"Well, yeah, I suppose, but, blimey, 'ave you got no sense of humor?"

"You were making a joke?"

"Well, no!"

"Then why am I expected to react humorously?"

"Who's asking you to-" Newkirk stopped and blinked. "I lost track of the ruddy conversation."

"Ah. Then we are done here?"

"I suppose."

"In that case, good night." Spock turned and exited through the door, leaving Newkirk standing in the dark with his cigar.

* * *

"Blimey, he's a weird one!"

Hogan shushed Newkirk as he closed the door to his office. It was still late in the night. The Englander blew on his hands and rubbed them briskly together as Hogan clicked on the desk lamp.

"Grayson?"

"Yeah. As grave as a tombstone. Takes everything literally."

Hogan chuckled. "Someone has to, I suppose. The contents inside are undisturbed?"

Newkirk nodded.

"Good. In that case get some rest- I want to go over mission details right after roll call. We're going to stop thinking about Grayson and Kirk for this, okay?"

"Yes, Colonel." Newkirk turned to leave but frowned suddenly. He shook his head once like he couldn't quite figure something out. "Though he got into that safe right quick an' I didn't see no stethoscope, neither."

"Getting too close to your ego?"

Newkirk considered. "Just a little."

Hogan clapped his shoulder. "In war, we must bear the reality of close-calls."

* * *

Kirk lay on his back with his hands laced over his chest, staring at the bunk above him. Losing the tricorder was a huge blow, but it was getting to the point where they would have to move on from it. His brain stirred with possibilities. If McCoy appeared where they did. If McCoy appeared in outer Mongolia. If McCoy stumbled into this very camp. If McCoy was shot by a Nazi patrol. If McCoy changed history too soon. If _they_ changed history, the tricorder was missing, contamination was real-

What if he asked Hogan? Kirk almost sat up. The man knew more about this camp than he let on. Spock had told him all about running into that Newkirk fellow when he retrieved his hat. What need did he have to break into Klink's safe? How had he gotten inside so quickly without Spock hearing?

 _For a prisoner to have snuck into the station and rifled through our clothes they would have required considerable stealth._

Spock hadn't said it was impossible, just that it would take great stealth. Newkirk seemed to fit the bill, and Kirk bet he worked for Hogan. A direct approach may provide some answers. Something else was going on here, something that would definitely go down in history. He read about Hogan in school, now he was sure of it. If Spock's theory was correct, if McCoy appeared where they did… if McCoy stumbled into this very camp… if McCoy was shot…

And the loop continued.

* * *

"Diiiiiiissssmiiiiiiiiseed!"

The men grumbled and scrunched up their shoulders against the cold as they dispersed. A light drizzle had been present all day, not helping anyone's health nor attitude. Due to the dreariness most were trying to file back into their barracks, but Kirk fought against the tide and crossed over to Barracks 2 with Spock in tow.

He caught Hogan's arm, but had the feeling that the colonel could tell he was coming. "We need to talk."

"I'm a little busy," he answered.

"Doing what?"

Hogan's dark eyes looked him up and down as the water ran off the brim of his hat. "Business," he said vaguely. His voice was edged with a hint of dark awareness lurking in the background. "But I can make an appointment."

"You can't spare the time of day for a fellow American?" Kirk stated flatly.

"It's almost 7 AM," he answered without glancing at his watch.

"Thanks." Kirk opened his mouth again but hesitated, evaluating the man. Hogan stared back at him, waiting.

"I know you're up to something here," he hinted charismatically. "I'd like to be a part of it."

Hogan didn't react for a moment. When he did, it was as if a switch had been flipped off. He shrugged and grabbed the handle to Barracks 2. "My assistant will stop by with your application."

When the door closed, Kirk stood staring at it for some time. Finally, he turned and noticed Spock still next to him, shivering slightly. "Mr. Spock, your loyalty will ensure that you'll catch your death."

"Understood, Captain."

Kirk shook his head and guided the frozen Vulcan back to their barracks. "I can't have you sick or dead, Spock, so next time return to the barracks with everyone else, alright? This wasn't that big of deal."

"He doesn't trust you, Captain."

"No, no he doesn't," Kirk admitted. "But nor should he. What would you think if two strangers just suddenly showed up with a flimsy story and some unknown, ulterior motives?"

Spock did not reply.

* * *

For a brief moment, Hogan thought his perfect exit indoors would be fouled by all his men pressed against it, listening. They scurried out of the way, however, and when he shut the door he motioned for someone to watch out the window to make sure their friends returned to Barracks 3. When the two finally moved off, he returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"The factory," he began, pulling out a map of the surrounding area like a shade from under a bunk. "Has one road in and one road out along here. To the southwest, there is a fence that borders the woods. That's our best option to enter."

Newkirk raised his hand. "Is it electrified, Colonel?"

He shook his head. "No. Some wire cutters should be all we need. LeBeau, Carter-" The men perked up. "Tonight will be recon. I want you to make sure that the supports here and here," he pointed out the different spots across the rough drawing. "Are enough to bring the roof down if they go. If this was an ammunition plant a few grenades could send the whole place up in smoke, but for now the invitation reads 'bring your own bombs'."

"Oh, we're good on dynamite, boy! I mean, Colonel." Carter twitched happily in his seat.

"Recon only, Carter. If a few blasts won't take them down we'll have to find another way."

"But what if we just used more dynamite?"

Hogan paused and settled his hand on the young sergeant's shoulder. "That's why you're going to go investigate, Carter. You know how a building will behave once it's blown up- I don't want the roof to pop up only to fall back down in place. If more dynamite will do the trick, then that's what we'll do. But I'm concerned about the _placement_. We've encountered similar buildings before and this has worked, but the supports might be a bit stronger in a factory this size. Got it?"

Carter processed his words for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I got it." He frowned. "The rafters might need to go, too."

"Exactly," Hogan grinned. "So, you and LeBeau will scope it out tonight. Learn what you need to, then report back. We'll fine-tune once we have more accurate intel."

The map-shade zipped back up and the men began to disperse. "Colonel," Kinch approached. They paused near the edge of the bunk as LeBeau shuffled past to make coffee. "What did Kirk want outside?"

Hogan exhaled. "He's sniffing a little too closely for my taste. Wants to talk, but I want to get this factory job over with first, what with London breathing down our necks." He paused in zipping up his jacket, reflecting for a moment. "They still haven't made any move to escape?"

Kinch shifted his stance to lean against the corner post. "No, but after the failed find in Klink's safe I think they're ready to give up on that route. It won't be long now before they try something."

"No it won't," Hogan considered. He snapped his fingers. "Newkirk," he turned. "You think you can hide Klink's helmet in somebody's footlocker?"

The Englander chuckled. "Of course, but he won't like it."

"That's what we want. I imagine a stunt like that would land someone about, oh, say ten days in the cooler?"

Newkirk paused. "Yeah, I'd say that's about right."

"Good. That should keep at least Kirk out of our hair until we're done with this mission." Hogan straightened languidly, the discussion coming to a close. "LeBeau, how's that coffee?"

* * *

The rain was gone the next day though heavy clouds still loomed overhead. Kirk stamped his feet. These were miserable conditions, and yet no one seemed too depressed by them. It was unusual, to say the least, but for now it didn't matter. With the rain gone he could enact his own designs on Barracks 2.

With Spock's hearing, they could definitely listen in on any conversations from a longer distance than customary. If Hogan wouldn't tell him what was going on, then he would find out for himself.

He rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet again. What was taking Klink so long? Didn't the commandant know he had work to do?

His angry thoughts were interrupted by hysterical caterwauling. "SCHUUUUULTZ!" Kirk snickered as Klink came running out on his spindly legs. "I want the barracks searched!" he hollered, never ceasing his flustered movements. "Somebody stole my helmet and I will not _rest_ until it is found! Do you hear me? Guuaaaards, search the baraaaaacks!"

The prisoners scrambled back inside to stand at attention by each man's bunk. The stampede over the surprise inspection drowned out Schultz's stuttered reply. Kirk and Spock perfectly mimicked the other prisoner's stances and waited as the guards began tearing the place to shreds. Kirk didn't react until one of the guards shouted.

"Wir haben es gefunden!"

He reached and pulled out the helmet from- Kirk's stomach dropped. He hardly noticed Klink and Schultz barge through the door.

"You found it! Thank goodness! Where was it?"

The guard looked down. "Who's footlocker is this?" he raised his voice. "WHO'S-?"

"It's mine," Kirk said sharply. He eyed Klink. "Thought it'd make a good joke."

"Well, I don't find it funny!" the colonel declared. "Ten days in the cooler for your insubordination! Guards, take him away."

"Captain-"

"Not now, Spock," Kirk ordered. He could tell that the Vulcan was worried. "I'll sit this out and _you'll_ keep listening." The last two words ended in a harsh whisper as two guards grabbed him by the elbows. "That's an order, Spock!"

The door banged shut behind them.

* * *

LeBeau twisted around from the sink periscope. "They're leading him away, Colonel. The plan worked beautifully!"

"Good." Hogan passed a pillow to Carter who gave it to Newkirk. "It's nice for once to put some problems on the back burner."

Newkirk propped a mattress back on the top bunk and a plume of dust exploded in his face. Coughing, he tried to bat it away. "Did it have to involve the barracks search, though?"

Hogan shrugged. "Look at it this way- for once we're not the guilty party."

Newkirk wrangled a blanket in his hands as he muttered. "Once, _yeah_ , once… one bloomin' time out of a'hundred…"

As the men busied themselves with cleaning up the barracks, Hogan retreated to his quarters to straighten up. Carter and LeBeau had returned with positive news- Carter was bubbling about how he had just enough dynamite and, if wired right, could bring the entire building down, not just the roof. It wasn't what Hogan heard often, but akin to music when it did grace him. He already planned for the five of them to commence with planting the explosives tomorrow night, when it was the new moon. After that he could finally return his attention to Kirk, Grayson, and the box.

Kirk likely wouldn't be too happy that Hogan landed him in the cooler instead of meeting with him. Hogan paused in making his bed. Oh well. Such is the nature of the business- the mission came first. Yet he would make sure LeBeau would swing by with something filling for the stomach. For once, everything was going smoothly.

This would be a piece of cake.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: READ CHAPTER THREE FIRST. It has been UPDATED. This chapter had an added incident that I had not originally planned and so I combined it with the previous chapter since it was bothering me anyway. I hope y'all enjoy it.**

 **Also, to Guest: Let me get some facts straight for you. ONE: this is not a collaboration of authors. I, Danzinora Switch, am solely writing this story. The IDEA comes from LittleMissSpitfire, whom has graciously granted me permission to follow through with the writing, as well as permission from CollieandShire. I fully acknowledge that the idea is not mine, as clearly stated in the description. Obviously the characters come from their respective shows.**

 **TWO: Now that I have told you where the idea for this story has come from, I imagine you will stop accusing me of plagiarism. I DON'T read Hogan's Heroes on AO3, and I _especially_ don't read crossovers there. Upon seeing your review I immediately looked up what you could possibly be referring to- closest guess is maybe "Star Heroes" by Baja_King? I only skimmed it today, but it seems to include a female OC and a different MacGuffin, to say the least. Let me be clear: ANY and ALL similarities between my story and what you have in mind are COINCIDENTAL. Which is surprisingly easy to due if one follows the same logical conclusions people should be making in this situation.**

 **THREE: You are the only complaint I received about the dialogue in the previous chapter. Judging by the other reviews, most people had no trouble following along. Regardless, the chapter was bothering me anyway, and I had already made plans to revise it once I got a better handle on this one. If you would like to take a look, feel free. But I'll be frank: I don't write for "pats on the back". I write because I damn well happen to enjoy writing. I post my work, and it's cool that people review, but that's not why I do it. I don't go looking for favors.**

 **If you would like to continue this conversation, I suggest you log in so we may discuss things in private, but if you insist on maintaining anonymity leaving me to reply out here in the open, then so be it.**

* * *

Spock had gone straight to the commandant after Kirk was hauled away. He had intended for the conversation to proceed to the logical conclusion: that Kirk was innocent. It had not gone as expected.

"Sir, Captain Kirk is being framed."

"Oh? By who?"

"I believe Col. Hogan."

"Now that's ridiculous," Klink had scoffed. "Why would Hogan need to frame anybody? He knows not to take my stuff."

"Sir, Captain Kirk has never touched your helmet."

"Look, I know you're friends with him! Your ploys will not work on me!" The man had sounded almost gleeful. "Kirk will sit in the cooler for ten days and that is that! Diiismissed!"

So now Spock was standing outside of the infamous cooler pondering what to do. This predicament certainly jeopardized their mission. It was unlikely they could afford a ten day delay- McCoy was liable to appear anytime now.

A clang of metal shook him out of his reverie. The Frenchman- LeBeau was his name- was showing a covered dish to Schultz. He watched the two converse before the portly sergeant inevitably gave in. Spock raised an eyebrow. Another bribe.

Leaving Schultz to snack, Spock strode and quickly intercepted LeBeau before he entered the cooler. "What is in there?" he inquired gravely.

"Relax, it's just some food for Kirk." He lifted the lid to reveal a heartier-looking meal than Spock expected. He tried to move around him, but once again was blocked.

"Is it safe?"

LeBeau rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , it's safe. We're all on the same side here!"

"Are allies notorious for framing friends?"

The corporal shifted uneasily under the sharp gaze. "Well, Col. Hogan hopes this can double as apology food."

Spock took another look at the plate. It did indeed seem filling, and the captain would need his strength while incarcerated. It was also a positive sign that the colonel did not, at least, have anything too nefarious planned for them. Spock was getting the idea that if Hogan wanted them dead or forever removed, he could easily do so.

"Very well," he said, clipped. "I am sure he will accept the apology."

As LeBeau disappeared inside, Spock about-faced the compound. He had orders to follow.

* * *

Hogan had ordered everyone to silence while Grayson was on the prowl. Discussions concerning the mission would take place at night in the tunnel. The new moon had finally arrived and it seemed like it was also going to be a fairly clear night. As soon as the curfew hit, they piled down below ground and gathered the materials.

"Alright, let's move."

Silently, and in pairs, they slunk away from the tree trunk. Hogan had them wait two minutes between each pair before following. The night was a bit warmer, seeming to indicate that the cold snap they'd experienced was fading. Hogan didn't encounter any trouble, and before long the factory's fence rose before him.

He followed through the hole the others ahead of him had cut. Jogging up to the building, he thought he heard argued whispering. Disappointed that his men were so loud, he rounded the corner to confront them.

"If I was a kraut you'd be dead."

Carter and Newkirk jumped out of their skins. "Blimey, Colonel," the latter sighed, clutching his heart. "Don't do that."

"What's the problem?"

Newkirk huffed. "Tell him, Carter."

"Well, I uh," Carter shuffled sheepishly. "I was climbing up to place some of the dynamite, and well, I dropped the bundle."

"You _dropped_ it?" Hogan instinctively looked around to confirm that nothing was exploding.

"Scared the bejeezus out of me too, lemme tell ya," Newkirk remarked. He pointed at a barrel labeled WASSER. "It landed in there."

"It could've been worse!" Carter contradicted.

Hogan stopped Newkirk from snapping back. "Carter, how much dynamite fell and how wet did they get?"

Carter stopped trying to defend himself. "Well… most of what I had… but Louie, Kinch and all still have theirs… you've got yours… pretty wet."

"Is that still enough to bring this place down?"

His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "We'd be stretched pretty thin."

Hogan quieted. The two men waited and occasionally glanced at each other. Newkirk decided to clear his throat. "Is the mission aborted, sir?"

"No." He paced slowly. "Newkirk, finish putting your dynamite in Carter's spots. Carter, find Kinch and LeBeau and tell them not to wire the dynamite to detonator yet. Some of us will come back tomorrow night when this has dried and finish it."

"Right, Colonel!"

"Right-o."

Hogan opened his pack and also got to work. He should've known. These things were never like a piece of cake.

* * *

Kirk stared at the grey ceiling. And grey walls. And grey floors. He was getting sick of grey. Three days in this cell and he was already going stir crazy. No way was he going to make it to ten.

Having a restless soul also made it worse. He had already figured out five different ways to escape, but the second part always stopped him from following through: where would he go? Was he going to escape out of this cell to be free in a prison camp? Besides, Klink would probably just sentence him longer and he couldn't handle that.

He settled back on his bunk and listened to his brain thud against his skull. He. Was so. Bored. So. Bored. So. Bored. Wait, that thumping wasn't just his brain. Slowly, Kirk sat up and looked around. The thumping continued. The window! Kirk pounded his fist twice on the wall below it and stood up on his bunk to look through the bars.

Spock's face was a blessing to see.

"Spock," he grinned in relief. "How are things on the outside?"

"Unknown, Captain. Hogan and his men have been abnormally tight-lipped." Spock shifted slightly and Kirk craned to see what he was standing on. A crate? A barrel?

"So you know nothing, then?" he clarified.

"About as much as Sergeant Schultz, sir."

Kirk sighed and rested his head against the bars. His brow furrowed before he abruptly snapped his head back up. "More silent than usual, you said? Spock- do you suppose something's going down that we don't know about?"

Spock mulled it over. "It is certainly a possibility, Captain. Perhaps they believed you to be hindrance and removed you from the equation."

"In which case, no hard feelings," Kirk finished. "That'd better be it, Spock, for why else would they jail me then clam up even in private?"

"They could be plotting further against you, or perhaps against me, or-"

Kirk waved him off. "Spock, I'm trusting my gut on this one." He sighed. At least this promised to truly be temporary. "What about McCoy?"

The news was not promising. "He could already be here."

"And he doesn't know any more German than you or I?"

"I do not believe so," Spock said quietly.

Kirk sighed. "Alright, Spock." He smiled warmly. "Thanks for visiting me."

"I believe I have figured out Corporal LeBeau's method of bribery and, if my efforts are successful, I will be able to visit you inside momentarily," Spock observed.

"Thanks; it gets very boring in here."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he viewed the room and nodded solemnly. "I imagine to a human it would."

"Really, Spock?"

* * *

Newkirk and Kinch darted through the night. A tiny sliver of the moon was barely visible. The woods were quiet as they hurried along.

"Why did _we_ have to get assigned to go, Carter's the one who ruddy mucked it up!"

A nearby owl was startled by the grumbling. Kinch shushed him furiously. "Quit complaining."

The factory returned to view. Both of them prayed no one had discovered the hidden explosives. They hadn't heard anything all day from Hammelburg, but one could never be sure…

They were in the clear. Kinch hoisted Newkirk up to finish planting the dynamite. They ran around with ease, expertly ducking from the odd guard on watch. Before too long they were running back towards the fence stringing along a wire to the detonator.

Crouching down a slope below it, Kinch handed Newkirk the detonator. "Want the privilege?"

"No, mate, I'll let you do the honors."

Kinch grinned, his teeth glowing brightly in the night. He pushed on the plunger.

 _BOOM!_

The factory erupted in a pyrotechnic display. The night was painted orange as flames and rubble leapt into the sky. A siren slowly started wailing as the building toppled. The ground shook as a few delayed sticks of dynamite exploded. The noise was just as frightening as the visual. Shouts were heard as the guards tried to respond to the massive explosion. The siren increased in volume.

Newkirk thumped Kinch's arm. "Mate, let's get-"

"Assassins!"

Newkirk snapped around mid-sentence. "What was that?"

"Murderers! Assassins!"

"It's English," Kinch gaped.

They ducked lower as a man suddenly stumbled into view. The glow from the fire danced hellish shadows across his features, and he walked without direction. His clothes were solid colors with a strange emblem over the left breast. He seemed simultaneously haggard and delirious. "Murderers!"

"His yelling's gonna bring the patrols down on us!" Newkirk hissed.

Kinch waited until the man was closer then shot his hand out and grabbed his ankle. The man screamed as he was yanked down the slope and struggled violently. "No! No! I won't let you get me!"

Newkirk clapped his hand over his mouth. "If you don't shut up they _will_ get us!"

For some reason it did the trick because the man's blue eyes widened into bloodshot saucers. When Newkirk felt it was safe to remove his hand the man spoke quietly, reaching trembling fingers towards him.

"I'm glad you got away, too," he whispered. "Why do you think they want to kill us?"

Newkirk, taken aback, shrugged in frustration. "Because it's war, mate."

The siren and crackling fire filtered in for a moment. Kinch jerked. "Move. Now."

They pelted through the woods as the sound of German and barking grew louder. The strange man looked older than both of them, but had no trouble keeping up. Kinch figured his adrenalized wildness was a big contributor, but for now worried about getting as far away as possible. At the halfway point he decided they needed to stop going for distance and start with evasion. They'd left a reckless trail in their wake.

Newkirk panted, taking a quick breather. The man stumbled away and leaned against a tree. A hand was clutching his heart as a grimace passed over his face.

Newkirk nodded at him. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know."

"I hope it's not a heart attack, wouldn't that be our luck?"

Kinch gulped in some air before replying. The night was quieting down- the sounds of chaos had fortunately not followed them. He looked at the stranger. "What do we do with him?"

"I don't follow."

"Do we… take him… back to camp?" Kinch enunciated softly. He sucked in a last bit of air.

Newkirk blinked at him, aghast. "Kinch, _where else_ is he gonna go? In his state?"

"Newkirk, we don't even know where he came from."

"Well, he's clearly American-"

"I'm _not_ saying _no_ , I'm just-"

"Where, where are we?"

Both men turned to where the stranger sagged by the tree, face turned upwards towards the sky. He continued muttering to himself. "Constellations seem right… but how?" He panted some more as his gaze drifted to the tree bark by his face. "Looks almost real… modern museum perfection…" The man squinted at them in the dark. "Bipeds… human? Human ancestry? How am I here?"

"He's a loon," Newkirk declared.

"Or drugged." Kinch furrowed his brow. "He was talking about getting away…" He trailed off as the implications began churning through his mind.

"From the Gestapo, perhaps?" Newkirk wondered quietly.

The silence felt oppressive. If they had a Gestapo escapee, if the Gestapo was testing new drugs on their prisoners…

"Maybe." Kinch glanced at his watch. They still hadn't heard anything, but he didn't want to take any chances on being followed, especially when he swore there were dogs back at the factory. Hogan would know what to do about this. "Break time's over. Let's move!"

They started up again, this time not as swiftly. The man was breathing harder and harder, despite the rush they had witnessed earlier. Newkirk drew closer. "Mate, are you alright?"

"I would give a lot to see the hospital…" He raggedly gasped. "With-" Another grimace flashed across his face again. "Oh the pain… they… terrible, terrible pain…" His running legs suddenly wobbled and he pitched forward in a sprawl. Newkirk hollered for Kinch and grabbed one of his arms.

"What happened?" Kinch backtracked urgently.

"I dunno, he just suddenly collapsed, I think he is drugged or something." They slung his arms over their shoulders and hauled him up. Dead leaves stuck to the front of his shirt. "How much farther to camp?"

"About another half mile- you got him?"

"Yeah, I got him; go."

As they started forward again with a renewed sense of emergency, neither man noticed the small, black object left behind in the shadows of the forest.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, first of all, my deepest apologies for the long delay. My goal was to get this done before Christmas, but that plan fell through. This is partly why I've outlined a new system on my profile page where I'll only post completed stories, to minimize long delays in updates like now. But, for the time being, I am working on finishing this and another story suffering from neglect. I'm combing for consistencies, so minor changes may occur in the next few days, but I didn't want to wait any longer. Thank you for your patience.**

* * *

"Alright, ease him down… careful now… watch the rung!"

Hogan and the others heard the small commotion and responded hurriedly to the base of the tree trunk. They arrived to see Kinch and Newkirk pulling a strange man down with them. He appeared to be unconscious.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hogan interrupted firmly.

"Colonel, this man needs help," Newkirk reported.

Carter and LeBeau almost rushed past to assist but Hogan's arms suddenly blocked them. "Is he sick?"

"What?"

"Is he sick?" Hogan demanded. He gestured the discoloration on the man's face and hands. "We don't have the materials to inoculate the whole camp if he's got the pox."

Frozen, Kinch and Newkirk frantically looked him over. "I don't think so, Colonel," Kinch ventured carefully. "At least not with smallpox. When we found him he was raving about getting away and not letting murderers catch him."

"We think he escaped the Gestapo, sir."

Hogan was tempted to point out that that didn't necessarily mean the man wasn't sick. There were always rumors of biological warfare… but that was neither here nor there. "Carter get Wilson, LeBeau find some water will you? Let's get him to the cot."

As they pulled the dead weight through the tunnel Hogan grilled them on the details of their mission. The plan had gone through smoothly, and it was only later that this fella showed up. He found it a strange contrast that the stranger had previously been adrenalized to the point of delirium when faced with his stillness now.

They got him to the cot and had LeBeau lay a wet rag on his forehead as Wilson and Carter returned. The medic cautiously overlooked him before frowning.

"Well?" Hogan asked. "Is he sick?"

"I don't think so," Wilson replied. "He's not matching any symptoms of an illness that would worry me. In fact, he's not matching any symptoms of _anything_ I'm familiar with."

"New drug, Colonel?" Carter suggested from his seat. "If he did escape the Gestapo, that is."

"Could that be it?" Hogan asked.

Wilson had crossed his arms as he contemplated the patient before him. "My first guess was an adrenaline overdose, but his heartbeat's way too fast." He mulled it over some more. "We've got splotchy coloration, rapid heartbeat, delirium, fainting, prolonged unconsciousness and a fever. I'd hazard it's blood related, or tied to his cardiovascular system. A drug could mess with that."

A quiet lull befell the tunnel. LeBeau cleared his throat. "So, the Gestapo is testing new drugs now? What a mess."

"Anything else we can do, Wilson?" Kinch asked quietly.

"Without knowing exactly what it is I'm dealing with, my hands are largely tied." The medic let out a frustrated sigh. "Best thing is to keep him cool and calm- that _resting_ heart rate should scare anyone. And, if it is a drug, we pray his system flushes it out naturally."

"Thank you, Wilson," Hogan finished. "If you're able to make it down here to check up on him we can rotate you with Kinch's schedule." Medics were precious in a prison camp and if it came down to it Hogan would treat his men before a stranger.

"That would work- I want to make sure a surprise infection doesn't creep it."

He guided the medic out and stood for a moment in silence. What a crazy night. And now this on top of everything else. After taking a moment to collect himself, he returned to the radio room.

Carter and Newkirk were hovering by the cot, discussing quietly. "Where do you think he got those clothes?" "Must be a new prison uniform."

Hogan clapped his hands once for attention. "Okay, grab a corner; let's move the cot away from the warm equipment further out in the tunnel- it's cooler there. 1,2,3- up!"

The man didn't even twitch as they complied.

* * *

Roll call the next morning was brutal. Sleep deprived and cold, the men filed out of the barracks and stamped their feet. Kinch shivered with the rest of the men as he tried to warm up. A quick look towards Barracks 3 revealed that Grayson was the only person who wasn't moving in the face of the weather. Another set of chills shook him after that. The man was just a little too abnormal.

After Klink left and everyone filed back away Kinch nabbed a bit of coffee from LeBeau and departed for the tunnel per his usual radio check. The tunnel had chilled from last night, but wasn't dangerously cold. The bite of the wind was the main factor, which was lacking down here. He glanced over at the cot on his way to the radio and stopped.

It was empty.

Keeping still, he listened for any audible clues to their guest's whereabouts before stepping towards the cot to investigate. He frowned. When had this guy awakened?

"Oh sir…"

The ragged voice startled him and he turned to see their stranger partway down the tunnel, leaning timidly against a support. He looked like he'd been through hell; exhaustion was apparent on all his features and his shoulders sagged heavily. "That coffee, it just… it smells wonderful."

Kinch set his cup down and carefully approached the man. "I'll give you some if the doc okays it."

"That… that sounds great." Kinch saw the man's arms shaking and caught his elbow just as his grip on the post slipped.

"Come on," he tugged gently. "You look like you need to lie down before you try any coffee."

The man swayed as they walked and dipped his head against his shoulder. "I can't, I have to keep moving… I can't let 'em find me," he mumbled.

Kinch paused. "Who?"

"Them… from the ship…" The man dropped heavily onto the bed and Kinch couldn't tell if he had passed out or simply fallen asleep. He tucked him in, replaced the rag, and retrieved his coffee.

No names, but at least it was a little information that he could tell Hogan.

* * *

Spock had succeeded in bribing Schultz and was now tactfully playing a card game with Kirk. The captain had been pensive, and he could tell that Kirk had been thinking hard about their situation and was on the verge of a full plan.

"Convincing Klink to let me out early won't do any good," he said mildly, playing a card. "Hogan's the one pulling the strings."

"I agree." Spock played his next hand, waiting for what Kirk had to say.

"He seems to run the camp through extreme persuasiveness," Kirk continued. "Have you studied his technique?"

"Exactly that, Captain," he replied. "Extreme persuasiveness. He is quite convincing when he so chooses to be."

"And it certainly helps that Klink and Schultz are so gullible." He paused after playing his turn and drew his hand across his chin. "Spock," he said. "I still want to go for the direct approach, so let's expedite things. Tell Hogan I want out of the cooler today or else I will escape."

Spock knitted his brow. "You believe that to be an adequate threat, Captain?"

"Of course. Spock, we've determined that Col. Hogan is the one basically running this camp. An American colonel is in control of a Nazi POW camp. Yet the escape record is nil. I don't know if it's by defection or other means, but somehow that man is keeping everyone from escaping. I threaten to shatter that, I threaten something far bigger."

Spock conceded the point. "How will you be able to instigate your escape should he not accept your ultimatum?"

Kirk waved him off. "I've studied this cell for days. It's easy, really. We've both escaped prisons before, even Nazi ones. That's another point that's bothered me- the fact that it's so easy to get out and yet no one does."

"There could be something preventing them which we have not encountered yet," Spock cautioned.

"Then I'll cross that bridge when I get there. Spock- I don't expect to actually go through with the escape. Deliver my ultimatum to Hogan, and then watch. I have a hunch I'll be released before sundown."

* * *

"He's running from someone, sir. He mentioned men from a ship."

Hogan considered the information. "What ship?"

"Didn't say," Kinch replied. "Certainly nothing around here."

"Do you suppose he's got some kind of top secret information that would warrant dragging him all the way out here?" Newkirk suggested. "Could be a valuable prisoner."

"Maybe." Hogan started to pace slowly across the width of the barracks. "Maybe," he sighed grimly. "It could also mean that he defected from one of _our_ ships."

"Colonel, you don't think-!"

"I don't know what to think yet," Hogan cut Carter off. "All I know is we have an American man on the run in the middle of Germany from people on a ship." He pinched his brow. "Without anything more like a name or otherwise I don't want to risk a contact to London- too many people go missing every day. Carter, fetch Wilson. Maybe he can bring him around for a few moments. Kinch, why don't-"

LeBeau whirled around from the door. "Grayson is making his way here!"

The men glanced around sharply to make sure no items relating to the operation were lying about. Hogan sat down his coffee and put one foot on the bench of the table as the Frenchman moved away and nonchalantly to the stove. When the door opened, they were all the perfect picture of casual.

Grayson stepped once towards Hogan and rested at attention. "I have come to deliver a message on behalf of Captain Kirk."

Hogan looked around his men before returning his attention to the stiff officer. "And what would that be?"

"He wishes to speak with you sir, directly and out of the cooler. If you will not comply, then he shall escape tonight."

A little chuckle wove around the room. "Escape?" Hogan repeated. "Doesn't he realize that 'no one escapes from Stalag 13'?"

Grayson raised an unamused eyebrow. "He realizes many things," he said flatly.

Hogan's demeanor turned serious. "I suppose I can bribe Schultz into letting me talk to him."

"He wants you to get him out of the cooler, _today_."

"What makes you think I can do it?"

Grayson eyed him shrewdly. "Aside from being the one to land him _in_ the cooler," he began, causing Hogan to narrow his eyes. "You are the unofficial man in charge, here. I believe we all know that you can get him out."

"Before he escapes it," Hogan drawled. "With you helping him, naturally."

"Actually, he would not need my help." Grayson looked at him. "The captain is quite capable."

The other men shifted.

"Very well, Commander Grayson," Hogan said. "I'll see what I can do. It must be very important news he has to discuss with me."

"I assure you, it is," Grayson said stiffly. He saluted, and after the return dismissal exited the barracks.

"We can't trust them, Colonel," Newkirk said immediately. "We still don't know why they're here."

"I know," he replied. "But whatever story Kirk will spin for me we can match with London. We've got two mysteries, but a chance to learn more about one of them. Carter, go get Wilson. Alright, I'm off to see the commandant."

* * *

Klink was fussy as usual, though a tad extra persnickety over the excess paperwork that had recently befallen him. Hogan patiently let him rant before easing into his own topic.

"Kommandant," he began, interrupting another tirade over the scrupulousness of inventory. "As much as I love these little chats, I do have some worrying news."

"Worrying?" Klink's previous headache was swiftly forgotten. "What do you mean by worrying?"

"I mean a psychological state of cabin fever so intense that it precedes _mania_ ," Hogan dangled the hook expertly before him.

"Cabin fever? Mania? What are you talking about?"

"The man in the cooler, Captain Kirk! Oh boy, commandant, have you done a number on him. This is why men never doubt the effectiveness of your punishment." Hogan eased off the hinges of the cigar box on the desk as Klink perplexedly looked out the window.

"Why, what's happened to him?"

"I told you," Hogan said, closing the box. "Cabin fever. Gotta light?"

Klink jumped up with his lighter as Hogan puffed the cigar, still glued to the story. "Yes, but you mentioned _mania._ How does cabin fever equate to that?"

Hogan blew some smoke in a decisive fashion, back to business. "Colonel, for some men, confinement is worse than other punishments. Days cooped up in the same small cell with the same four walls drives this kind of man to a snarling, rabid, wild beast!" He slammed his hand on the desk to punctuate his statement, causing Klink to jump.

"Not even the cooler can hold such an explosive mix," he finished.

"Not even the cooler? What are you suggesting?" Klink's jaw dropped as it clicked in his brain. "Do you think the mania has affected Kirk to the point where he would attempt an escape?"

"Not yet, but we don't have much time. His friend Grayson says he could snap any moment. Certainly it'll happen before tomorrow, even."

"We can't have that!" Klink cried, rushing up from his chair. He flit nervously around his office, wringing his hands for a few paces before drifting back to Hogan. "What can be done?"

"Well, you can let him out," Hogan suggested. "The wide open spaces of the compound should allow him to cool off."

"I can't do that!" Klink objected. "The man was assigned 30 days in the cooler and 30 days he will get!"

Hogan sighed dramatically. "Then by the end of tonight he'll burst like a bullet all the way back to England."

Klink froze. "We can't have that!" he said again.

"So you'll let him out, commandant?"

Klink wagged a finger at him. "You really think that will help?"

"Of course. Movement and socialization can do a lot for a man. As it is, right now the pressure is only building… building… building…"

"Alright!" Klink cried. "He's released from the cooler!" He hastily scribbled a note of the fact before handing it to Hogan. "Make sure he doesn't fire his way out of here!"

"Of course," Hogan gave him a sloppy salute as he grabbed the doorknob.

"Oh, Hogan!" Klink peered at him, once again seated behind his paperwork. "Why do you care so much about the state of this individual?"

"Sir, if and when he bursts there's no telling _what_ he'll do," Hogan replied, eyes wide open in concerned innocence. "A man that unpredictable could hurt one of _my_ men. It's much safer to let him blow off steam in the compound."

"Right, right," Klink trailed. He came back to himself and shooed Hogan away. "Now out! Before he explodes!"

Hogan smirked as he closed the door.

* * *

Kirk leveled his gaze with Hogan as Schultz led him out into the daylight. He gave a short nod before walking with the man across the camp.

"So Grayson said you had something to tell me," Hogan began casually.

"Yes," Kirk answered. "If you know somewhere private where we can have this discussion, that would be best."

"I do."

Spock met them at the entrance to Barracks 2, and Hogan only glanced between them before leading the way inside. The entire barracks was cleared save for Hogan's usual men. Oddly enough, Carter was missing.

Kirk and Spock hovered by the stove as Hogan propped a foot up on the bench of the cramped table. "Alright," he said without preamble. "Start talking."

So Kirk did.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Not as bad a wait as last time, but I still apologize. Time just moves faster as you get older! Anyway, I finally churned this out and have a very good plan for the next chapter! Very exciting! It's also why this one is a little shorter- it's the best stopping point for the upcoming beat. Thank you all for your patience and dedication- I know I haven't been the easiest author as of late. It's been... well, it's simply been.**

 **I hope you enjoy this next installment!**

* * *

The two leaders eyed each other across the small distance. Kirk pulled up a chair and sat down, never taking his eyes off Hogan. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I'm sure one of the things preying on your mind is what we're doing here," he began, critically analyzing the colonel's reaction.

"I've thought about it once or twice."

Kirk paused for the briefest moment before driving forward. The web-spinning began.

"Commander Grayson and I are a part of a top-secret rescue mission. We discovered that one of the men we served with on the… USS _Enterprise_ had been captured by the Germans. The last report put him somewhere in this area. We had almost caught up to him when we were mistaken for escapees and transported here." Kirk leaned forward some more.

"Now, if it hadn't been for your little stunt framing me for the cooler, Grayson and I would be back out searching for him already. You may have impeded a mission for our country."

He got a raised eyebrow in response. "I take it nobody talks to each other anymore?"

Kirk glanced at Spock, furrowing his brow. He was not prepared for that response. More than likely it went back to the mysterious set up here. Kirk phrased his next words carefully. "You have your secrets, I know. I would love for this to be the time we both lay all our cards on the table."

Hogan finally took his foot off the bench and sat down, mimicking Kirk's posture. "How about you give me a day to confirm _your_ story and then I'll see about helping you find your friend? That would mean my cards would be on the table during that procedure. Sound fair?"

There was a slight deliberation. "Fair enough," Kirk conceded. It wasn't the answer he wanted but at least it was the _promise_ of an answer.

"Good. No escaping tonight and we'll talk again tomorrow." Hogan stood up. "What's the name of your missing man?"

"Dr. Leonard H. McCoy," Kirk replied. "He's a Lieutenant-Commander."

Hogan nodded. "I'll see if anyone new brought in has heard of him. In the meantime, gentlemen?" He gestured the door. Kirk and Spock uneasily drifted towards it.

"The mess hall is delicious this time of day," Hogan bade them farewell.

Kirk tried not to sigh stubbornly once they were outside. They were so close to finding out what was going on here, which he knew was the key to getting out (or lack thereof). So close! One more day.

* * *

As soon as the two mysterious visitors left the barracks erupted in motion. "Kinch, get that info to London- three men, formerly stationed on the USS _Enterprise_ , names, rank and any possible rescue mission concerning this Dr. McCoy. LeBeau, get some soup ready for our downstairs guest- I want to see what progress Carter and Wilson have made with him. Newkirk, with me."

The men scurried off to do as ordered, which meant three disappearing into the tunnel while the fourth quickly heated up some food for the soul. Kinch broke off towards the radio while Hogan and Newkirk continued on to the little cot holding the third part of this crazy day. Wilson was putting away his stethoscope while Carter hovered overhead.

"How's he doing?" Hogan asked immediately.

"Better, from what I can tell. His heart rate is finally down. You can see that most of the discoloration has cleared, though he is still very pale and exhausted. I still don't have any idea what messed him like this, though." Wilson rose from his crouch by the cot.

"Has he awakened at all?"

The medic shook his head. "Out like a light, although Carter and I were being quiet so as not to purposefully disturb. I don't know what he's been through, Colonel."

"Think he'll make sense when he does wake, Colonel?" Newkirk murmured.

Hogan exhaled. "We'll find out." He knelt down and gently shook the man's shoulder.

"Hey there, soldier, time to wake up. The war's still on, you know."

It took a few more prods and shakes before the man stirred and blinked open his eyes. They were still terribly bloodshot, but after a few confused blinks seemed to focus for the first time. Hogan leaned back on his heels as the man turned his head towards him, absorbing his appearance. The blue eyes flicked rapidly towards the other members of the small group. Confusion crept over his face.

"Do you know where you are?" Hogan asked.

"No," the man answered. His voice was a little gruff, but otherwise clear. "I don't think I want to know."

"Why not?"

The man closed his eyes. "Because the only possible answer would conclusively prove that I'm either unconscious or demented."

"Mate, this first time you _don't_ seem demented," Newkirk stated frankly.

Those blue eyes snapped up to him seriously, then faded into concerned doubt. "Uniforms," he mumbled. He glanced back at Hogan. "And American- looks around… 1942?"

"'43," Hogan replied. He flashed a grin. "Getting to be spring, now."

"I am unconscious, or demented." The man dropped his head back on the pillow.

"Not anymore." Hogan clapped his shoulder, startling him. "I'm Colonel Hogan. These are some of my men, Newkirk, Carter, and Wilson's been the medic taking care of you."

"Medic, huh?" He scrutinized Wilson for a moment. "Well, thank you, but your services won't be needed anymore. I'm a doctor- I can figure out my own health now."

Hogan looked at him curiously. The man caught his stare and sat up, a little defensive. "I am Leonard McCoy- senior medical officer of the USS Enterprise."

Now Hogan stiffened and glanced at Newkirk, who had realized the same thing. The little outburst had taken what little energy McCoy had out of him and he sank back onto the pillow.

"Carter, make sure LeBeau hurries up with that soup."

Catching the urgent tone in his commanding officer's voice, Carter ran for the ladder without question. Hogan prodded McCoy again, trying to stave off the call of sleep.

"Hey, don't fade out just yet. Soup's on the way. Did you say the _Enterprise_?"

McCoy's eyes stayed close but he raised a hand and pointed in Hogan's general direction. "Yeah. You said it."

"Earlier you mentioned you were running from people on a ship- is that ship the _Enterprise_?"

The doctor's brow furrowed. "I don't remember…" He cracked open his eyes again. "Running?"

"Yes, from the ship," Hogan repeated impatiently. There was a commotion and Carter and LeBeau hurried into the tunnel. LeBeau carried a hot bowl and Wilson tried to get McCoy to sit up.

" 'm not hungry, jus' tired," McCoy protested, but he leaned like a ragdoll propped up against the side of the tunnel. Hogan waited until he had taken a bite of the soup before repeating his question.

McCoy tried to consider it again as he chewed. "I'm not sure," he confessed at last. "There's not much I remember… mostly fear… some kind of terrible fear. It was everywhere. Had to run, had to get away… from what I'm not sure anymore. I think-" He suddenly broke off and chuckled.

"What is it?" Hogan pressed.

"Sorry," McCoy snickered. "For a moment there I forgot I was speaking to a hallucination." He gave the colonel a watery smile and returned to his soup.

Hogan stood up abruptly, frustrated that the tantalizing progress had been cut off so sharply. Delirium, even mild, was a pain. "Make sure he eats all that soup, Wilson," he instructed. He left the tunnel for the radio room, trailed by the others.

Newkirk spoke first. "Well, he seems to corroborate their story, Colonel."

"What story?" Carter asked.

"Kirk and Grayson are looking for him," he replied.

"Oh, _that's_ Leonard McCoy?" LeBeau whispered.

"Yep."

Hogan interrupted. "What we need to figure out is what this means for everyone. McCoy initially said he was running from people from the ship. Does he mean them? And if so, why? I want to figure out who the enemy is here, if anyone." He turned to Kinch as the man pulled off his headphones. "Anything?"

"London's going to go through the naval files to find the records of the three names on the _Enterprise_ , and they'll get back to us tonight. But they did tell me one interesting thing now." He shifted in his seat. "Colonel, the _Enterprise_ is stationed out in the Pacific. Has been since Pearl Harbor. How did two men wind up all the way out here?"

"Three." Hogan jerked his head towards the tunnel. "We found their missing McCoy. He said the same thing, that he was senior medical officer of the _Enterprise_. At least all of them are consistent."

Kinch nodded. "I'll radio back to confirm that position."

"Good." Hogan paced away from the radio, lost in thought. "If McCoy defected or deserted, then it would explain, somewhat, why Kirk and Grayson are after him. On the other hand, if he's a valuable prisoner he could be running from two defectors. Or the Axis could have gotten hold of him, and Kirk and Grayson really are on a rescue mission, in which case McCoy is running from the Gestapo, or, perhaps, the German ship that brought him here, if the 'ship' mention holds any water." He pinched his brow. "For a lot of willing talk, there are surprisingly few straight answers."

Carter piped up. "Dr. McCoy's still a little out of it, Colonel, that could just be it."

"It could," Hogan agreed. "But evasiveness of our dynamic duo still rubs me wrong. For a 'cards on the table' talk they revealed surprisingly little. How did McCoy get captured? How did they wind up in the other hemisphere from where they were stationed? Why, for a top-secret rescue mission, weren't we contacted? That one worries me most, even over how they both don't know about us here."

"Red tape?" Newkirk suggested.

Hogan shook his head. "I wish. But when are things that simple?" He slapped his hand on a beam once. "Kinch, let me know as soon as London confirms or denies the status of their posting on the _Enterprise_ \- from that I'll talk with them again. In the meantime, the rules still stand- don't mention the operation yet. I want to actually _know_ more about them before we reveal ourselves."

He started towards the ladder but was slowed down by Carter as he reached it. "Colonel, um, what if we mentioned Kirk and Grayson to McCoy? If he knows those names it might help us."

Hogan opened his mouth when Wilson stepped towards them, holding an empty bowl and shaking his head. "He's just fallen asleep again. I'd wait until he at least wakes up on his own before asking him that. His mental acumen has definitely improved, but he still believes that we're all a mass hallucination. Let him sleep a little more, and then he should be able to give you the clear responses you want."

The colonel dragged a hand across his brow. "Noted, Wilson. Did he tell you anything?"

Wilson shrugged. "Yes and no. I asked him about his clothes but he just seemed confused. It was like he couldn't figure out why I was asking him about that. From what I can figure they strike him as normal, but he also doesn't believe that I exist, so I take everything with a grain of salt."

"Well, at least he's improving. Maybe he'll wake up before I have to talk with Kirk tomorrow." Hogan sighed. He hated waiting for information to come in. Sure, they had a lot more than they started with, but it only seemed to raise even more questions. So. London, McCoy. Tonight. It would have to be enough.

* * *

Deep in the woods on patrol, Private Meyer strolled with Heidi as she sniffed through the brush. They were out further from the camp today, almost near the outskirts of Hammelburg, since Kommandant Klink hoped that lost saboteurs from the from that factory job would still be stranded in the woods.

Meyer huffed. If they hadn't found anyone by now, they weren't going to. What was that dummkopf thinking?

Heidi paused and whined, pawing at the ground. Meyer stooped down to see what had gotten her attention. He thought it was nothing, just a squirrel in a bush again, but she was insistent. Peering close, he spotted something shiny. Picking it up, he turned it over. It appeared to be a little black box with some kind of button on one side. He'd certainly never seen anything like it.

Meyer pocketed the device, suddenly very excited to get back to camp. Wait until he showed the commandant this.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, before everyone lynches me for being horribly late, I have good news: it's finished! I'll upload the next chapter 24 hours after this one and the epilogue 24 hours after that. I thought about breaking these last two big ones into three... but figured maybe two super-long chapters would kina make up for the wait? (No? Well, I deserve that). I may have some canon notes at the bottom of one of them, or lump everything in the epilogue, I dunno yet, but the STORY STORY is DONE. I'm just uploading now.**

 **Happy late Memorial Day.**

* * *

Kinch was waiting for London to broadcast after the evening role call as usual, though tonight he was tapping anxiously on the desk. Depending on what kind of answers they could make or break the delicate balancing act Hogan was playing with Kirk. He knew exactly how the game was played.

Sure enough, a chatter started filtering through. Kinch gripped his head set and grabbed a piece of paper. They were transmitting in Morse Code this time.

MAMA BEAR TO PAPA BEAR COME IN PAPA BEAR

PAPA BEAR HERE

NO INFO ON 3 CUBS FROM USS ENT NO INFO ON RESCUE MISSION NO INFO ON NAMES WITH RANKS

Kinch frowned as a cold weight settled in his stomach. According to London these men shouldn't exist. What was going on here?

A slight noise distracted him from replying right away. He pushed back from his desk and peered down the tunnel. McCoy was awake, up even, as he was walking around. Kinch eyed for a moment before realizing what the doctor was poking at- the strange whistling black box.

"Do you know what that is?" he called suddenly.

McCoy jumped a little at is echoing voice before relaxing. He walked over to him, slinging the box's strap over his shoulder with ease. "As a matter of fact, I do. I don't know what it's doing here, though."

Kinch twitched. "What's it called?"

"It's a tricorder," McCoy answered simply. "Although if this is a 1943 construct it figures you wouldn't know that."

Kinch was confused by his second sentence but had to return his attention to the radio. "Could you hold on for just a second?"

McCoy nodded good-naturedly as Kinch hurriedly tapped.

REQUEST INFO ON TRICORDER

REQUEST INFO ON WHAT?

TRICORDER

SPELLING

TRICORDER BLACK BOX W/STRAP WHISTLES INTENT UNKNOWN

NO INFO ON TRICORDER JERRY WEAPON?

UNKNOWN

"I should call the colonel down here," Kinch said casually. He still wasn't sure what that 'tricorder' thing was, but McCoy clearly knew how to use it- and he wasn't sure who McCoy was. "Since you're awake he will probably have some more questions for you."

"Feeling's mutual," McCoy replied, looking at the radio. "I still don't understand how I got here."

Kinch gave him a rueful smile. "I can half-explain that mystery. Newkirk and I found you in the woods and brought you here- what you were doing before that is anyone's guess."

"I suppose so," McCoy agreed. He rubbed his arms. "Well, I'll just wait here, I guess."

Kinch rose, tearing off the exchange he had with London. "I'll be right back."

He quickly strode to the ladder, glancing back once to see McCoy still fiddling with the tricorder. He felt uneasy leaving him alone in their tunnel with that strange machine, but he had to inform Hogan of the developments immediately. Up he went.

* * *

"Any news, Kinch?"

He was barely out of the tunnel when the question reached his ears. He swung up into the barracks and handed Hogan London's transcript. "Not much."

"Mystery men, huh? Could be plants… but this is the oddest story the krauts have come up with…" Hogan frowned as he read further down. "What's a tricorder?"

"Well, that's the second thing, Colonel," Kinch answered. "Dr. McCoy's awake, and he knows what that little black box does."

"Awake? Coherent?" Hogan immediately folded the paper into his breast pocket. "Newkirk, LeBeau, man the fort up here. Carter, with us."

The three men retreated down the bunk in a hurry.

McCoy was still hovering by the radio, though on the opposite side from where he had been last standing. The tricorder's strap was looped around his shoulder comfortably. He whirled as they approached.

Hogan stopped and sized him up. "Dr. McCoy?"

"Yes," the man answered cautiously.

"Do you remember me?"

They watched as McCoy considered the statement. "I remember seeing you. You're a colonel or something, right? 'm afraid your name escapes me."

"Hogan. Col. Robert Hogan." He walked a little closer. "You've been out of it for a while."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," McCoy commented, looking around the tunnel. "Where am I?" He gestured Kinch. "He said that he and some other guy found me in the woods, but that doesn't tell me much."

"Those are gaps I want to know, too." He leaned on the edge of the table with the radio. "You mind answering some questions, McCoy?"

McCoy blinked a few times before giving a small shrug. "I suppose not." He lowered himself onto a nearby stool and looked anxiously around the tunnel once more. "I should let you know I'm still seeing these big earthy walls everywhere."

Hogan looked over his shoulder at Kinch and Carter. "Kinch, go get Wilson." He turned back. "You're seeing walls because we're in a tunnel, understand? I see 'em too."

"Yeah, and me too!" Carter added enthusiastically.

McCoy's eyes widened, but he otherwise did not react. "Wait, what? I… I thought I was hallucinating in a hospital and you're… what kind of questions are you gonna ask, then?"

"First, what do you remember? Kinch and Newkirk found you out in the woods screaming bloody murder a couple days ago. Can you recall how you got there?"

McCoy frowned. "I remember some rocks… flashes of movement… I got away through something, but I can't remember what it was. Just that it was big."

"Got away?" Hogan repeated.

"Was somebody after you?" Carter butted in. Hogan looked at him.

"I think so," McCoy nodded. "Though I can't remember who, or why…" His frown deepened, making the lines on his face stand out far more clearly. "Course, if I was delirious it could've been anybody from doctors to security tryin' ta make sure I wouldn't hurt myself. I have no idea."

Hm. That was actually a good point. Hogan was less sure that the doctor's paranoia held credible information. "Were they speaking English or German?"

The doctor did a double-take. "Why would you ask that?"

"Just answer the question," Hogan pressed impatiently, but McCoy seemed suddenly deep in thought.

"1943, you said… earlier." He looked down at the tricorder in his lap and then the radio equipment on the table. His face clouded over in suspicion. "Where am I?"

"You answer my question first."

"No, to blazes with that! I already answered one of your questions! Where am I?"

The man was on his feet and Hogan stood up as well, gauging the man's temper. The man's accent had thickened considerably with his demand, though from what Hogan could tell, he wasn't brandishing the tricorder-box in any threatening way. Still, he wanted to make sure he wouldn't lose control.

Kinch chose to return at that moment with Wilson in tow. They stopped before the commotion.

Hogan glanced at them before addressing the enraged guest. "You're in a tunnel system below a German prisoner of war camp. The closest town is Hammelburg. That help?"

Slowly, McCoy sank back down onto his stool. "Germany," he echoed. "I guess that explains the German question."

Hogan stepped forward. "You mentioned you had served on the _Enterprise_. How did you get out here, then?"

The doctor looked up at him. "That's a very good question."

"Y'mean you don't know?" Carter exclaimed.

"I don't remember!" McCoy snapped. He rubbed his eyes. "One minute I'm on the bridge, the next I'm…" He looked around unsteadily.

Hogan took another step closer. "We contacted London. They don't have a record of you ever setting foot on the _Enterprise_."

"Well, no, of course they wouldn't," the doctor muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said they wouldn't!" he lashed. "I'm… this has got to be a dream."

Hogan pointed at the tricorder. "Do you know what that thing is?"

"It's a tricorder-"

"And you know how it works?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then why don't you show us?"

Wilson tried to step forward to halt the onslaught on the recovered man, but Kinch held him back. Hogan's questioning might just get them the info they needed.

"Carter, c'mere." Hogan's hand waved the sergeant over. He looked sternly at McCoy. "Show him how to use it."

Wariness flickered in McCoy's eyes. "I don't think I should…"

"Why not?"

He rubbed his brow. "It's not for just anyone…"

"Boy, I'm 'just anyone' now?" Carter protested.

"Look, it's not my place who decides-"

"Then whose place is it?" Hogan interrupted.

McCoy hesitated.

"Is it Captain Kirk's?"

The doctor's head snapped up, eyes blown wide. "You know about Captain Kirk?"

Hogan crossed his arms and regarded him bluntly. "What do you know about him?"

The doctor grew fidgety, but it seemed to be from hope rather than reluctance. "Is he here?"

The colonel pursed his lips. "He is. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

McCoy tossed up his hands. "We're in a POW camp, if what you say is true. You tell me."

Fair point, Hogan conceded. "Do you also know a Commander Grayson?"

"Grayson? Not ringing any bells… they got a first name?"

"Spock Grayson."

No one was prepared when McCoy's perpetual frown suddenly broke into a wide grin. "I'll be damned. Spock Grayson. Of course." He smoothed his hands on his pant legs, still totally oblivious to his odd uniform compared to the others. "I take it they've both been looking for me?"

"They have."

McCoy started bouncing his knees. "Can I go see them?"

"Tomorrow. Wilson?" Hogan motioned the medic over to finally look over the doctor.

The good mood left as quickly as it came. "Why tomorrow?" McCoy demanded, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Because it's the middle of the night by now," Hogan explained lightly, falling back to his witty self. "Even prisoners need their beauty sleep."

They watched McCoy tense and relax to his statement before swatting Wilson away. The medic huffed and trailed after Hogan towards the false bunk. Kinch and Carter followed several paces back.

"Well, he's mostly recuperated. Sleep cycles seem to be out of whack, but otherwise he looks healthy. Temperamental," he muttered.

"I noticed." Hogan exhaled. "He doesn't even know who was after him. Doctors, or krauts, or kraut doctors… But he knows that box is a tri-" he unfolded Kinch's report from his pocket. "A tricorder. I think we can rule out Kirk and Grayson chasing him, since they seem pretty welcome. They might be telling the truth after all."

Kinch piped up. "McCoy seemed unsurprised that London would have no record of him. Could the same be said of the others?"

"Possibly. Top secret enough to erase their histories?"

Carter shifted his feet. "You gonna introduce them to each other tomorrow, Colonel?"

Hogan shrugged. "Why not? It seems safe between them, and if Kirk is McCoy's superior maybe we can find out what that tricorder does without breaking anything. First thing after roll call tomorrow, got it?"

The men agreed and split off to return to their barracks- Hogan and Carter up the bunk, while Wilson walked down the tunnel to his barracks' entrance. Kinch returned to the radio room where McCoy was still stubbornly clutching the tricorder. He put on an easy-going smile and stuck out a hand.

"I'm James Kinchloe, by the way."

McCoy shook it without hesitation. "McCoy, Leonard McCoy," he answered, his natural drawl creeping through. Kinch gave a tight smile as they released, though the doctor's next words took him a little off guard. "Say, if you're down here, too, is there any way to pass the time, like a board game we could play or something? Not to interrupt you from your work, of course… I'm just a little wired right now."

Kinch cast his mind over the living conditions for their numerous rescues. "We have a checkerboard in the other room- hold on." He returned a moment later carefully balancing the worn pieces on the platform. McCoy scooted the stool up by the clear spot on the radio table and helped him set it up.

"You want to go first, or shall I?"

Kinch looked up. After a moment, he smiled. "I'll go first, if you don't mind."

"Hell, if I minded, why would I have asked?"

It earned a surprised chuckle from Kinch and the two leaned in to the game.

* * *

Kirk and Spock stood closely together in the brisk spring morning for roll call. It wasn't as bad as the previous days, but still chillier than either was used to.

Kirk narrowed his eyes as he saw one of the guards, a private, stride hurriedly to the commandant, almost interrupting Klink's rooster call of "Repoooooort!" He only seemed to remember himself in time to snap a salute as the birdlike colonel walked past.

The was interesting. Kirk had the upcoming meeting with Hogan on his mind today, but the private's behavior was holding his attention. He fidgeted constantly throughout roll call, as if bursting with energy despite the long night's patrol he had just finished. What was his name? Mayor? Minor?

As soon as the prisoners were dismissed, the private was off like a shot towards Klink. He chatted excitedly about something, reached in his pocket, and pulled out…

"Spock!" Kirk grabbed his first officer's elbow.

"I see it, Captain," he answered gravely.

"You didn't have your phaser on you when we jumped, did you?"

"No, Captain, only the tricorder. Communicators and other advanced technology were left with Scott and Uhura, but the tricorder could not be discarded. I will remind, however, that Lt. Kyle reported his phaser missing right when the doctor beamed down."

Kirk watched as Klink took hold of the deadly object, turning it over. Inwardly he cringed for a moment as the commandant pointed it right at his face. Eventually the two disappeared inside the office.

"If they have the phaser, then where's McCoy? He is here!"

"I know Captain, but clearly Private Meyer did not locate the doctor alongside his device." Spock tilted his head with sudden new urgency.

"Jim, this could be the contamination we are required to prevent. If the Nazis succeed in reverse engineering the phaser, then their technological advances with it will be greater than the devastation wrought by them with the machine gun in the first world war."

"I know, Spock, we must get the phaser, but we must find McCoy."

"At this point, the doctor's presence would not affect the current circumstances. The Germans have the phaser. We must not let it leave this camp."

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying we abandon McCoy and focus on the phaser?"

"Not entirely, Captain. There may still be ways in the future for the doctor to upset the balance of the times. But we do not know where he is, and we are trapped in this camp. We _do_ know where the phaser is, the implications it holds, and we are in a position, for now, to do something about it. Logically, we must address the most immediate problem."

Kirk flexed his hands. "Spock, I have a meeting with Hogan in five minutes!"

"Then we shall be efficient. While you meet with the colonel, I shall keep track of the phaser."

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't like this, Spock, we're suspicious enough as it is."

"Unfortunate, Captain, and yet necessary."

"Alright, go," Kirk ordered. "This is supposed to finalize the details of knowing about each other… maybe something can help us."

He didn't look back as he jogged towards Barracks 2.

* * *

Hogan closed the door, then leaned back against it to eye Kirk's serious face. "Yeah, I saw Private Meyer. Couldn't see what he was so excited about from our angle, but it was definitely odd. So what is it?"

"It's a top-secret item connected with our missing man," Kirk answered, hard. "I cannot give you details – it's classified – but it's imperative that we get it back."

Hogan and the other men nodded, though Carter propped his elbows up on the table in wonder. "Gee, you don't suppose it's another tricorder, do you?"

Kirk and Hogan's heads whipped towards him, one in surprise and one in warning.

"Tricorder?" Kirk repeated, more as a statement. He turned to Hogan accusingly. "Did you take our tricorder?"

"Actually, Newkirk did," Hogan replied. He left the door and crossed in front of Kirk. "But we have it, yes."

" _Where?_ "

" _Captain,_ " Hogan stated, making his authority clear. "I told you I would look into your story last night. Well, I did. What is so top secret that London doesn't have any records of your existence _and_ fails to inform us?"

Kirk swallowed. He held contact with those dark eyes as his brain danced. "You know better than to ask that question."

Hogan didn't move, yet Kirk could sense he was right on the tipping point of something. If he didn't play his next card right, they would have a very powerful enemy in the camp. The truth was out of the question. Trust too often relied on truth, but they needed to trust each other. Kirk always trusted his gut, though, and his gut still reminded him that Hogan was somewhere in the history books, which had to be a good thing…

"Please," he said quietly. "I cannot tell you everything about that object… but if the Germans get a hold of it then we've lost the war."

He could feel the surprise in the room, and saw that Hogan was suddenly grave. The colonel's eyes scrutinized his every reaction, and Kirk tried to make himself as earnest as possible. It wasn't hard. He'd said as much of the truth as he could. And they were so close to that tipping point…

Something shifted in the colonel and he straightened. "For whatever reason London hasn't told us about you," he remarked. "They should have at least told you about us. For now, we'll call it lost communications." He turned towards one of his men. "Kinch? Time to introduce Kirk to our guest."

Kirk watched as the tired, though alert, sergeant walked over to one of the bunk beds and… he gaped. The bottom bunk swung up and a ladder descended below into a tunnel. Kinch vanished somewhere inside.

He turned to Hogan, who joined him by his shoulder. "That's one surprise I wasn't expecting."

"If you pay a fee, you'll get to see our premium surprises," Hogan replied.

"Available for a limited time only," Newkirk added dryly.

The banter would have continued except Kinch was returning up the ladder. He was followed by a second person, wearing blue…

"Bones!" Before he could stop himself Kirk flew across the distance and embraced the doctor, nearly sending them toppling back down into the earth. McCoy jumped in surprise before laughing and slapping him heartily on the back. Kirk almost melted in relief. He drew back and looked Bones up and down critically. He spied Spock's tricorder slung over his shoulder, thank goodness, but was more concerned with his doctor's health.

"You doing okay?" he asked in a low voice.

"I am now, Jim," McCoy answered quietly. He tried to look around Jim's shoulder. "Where's Spock?"

"Grayson's keeping an eye on-" his eyes widened as he broke off and he whirled around to Hogan.

"Right," Hogan nodded. "To the coffee pot."

Both Starfleet men looked confused, but everyone else got up and followed Hogan like it was completely normal. In the officer's quarters, they watched as LeBeau took out a coffee pot and… plugged it in.

"Oh good, we're just in time for a phone call," Hogan commented as sounds started filtering through.

"Jim, what?" McCoy began, but Kirk shushed him. He recognized Klink's voice on the other end.

 _"_ _-itler,"_ Klink finished in greeting. Everyone leaned in closer. _"General, one of my privates has found a unique object while on patrol last – oh, what does his name matter? I have the item right here!"_ Pause. _"No, General, it's not that. It's small and sleek, not quite square, with two little buttons on one side. Now, it's certainly nothing I recognize, but- what?"_ There was an audible gulp. _"Yes, General, I wouldn't recognize my own monocle, of course General."_

The prisoners chuckled. Kirk and McCoy glanced at each other.

 _"_ _-rtheless, I still think you should come see this, sir. I'm thinking it was lost from an Allied raid, or perhaps a spy dropped it in the woods or_ _…_ _no, I don't have the spy_ _…_ _yes, General_ _…_ _yes I will. Thank you, General Burkhalter! Heil Hitler!"_

Hogan unplugged the pot and leaned his head against his wrist. "General Burkhalter, great," he muttered.

Kirk didn't recognize the name, but he recognized the tone. "Colonel, I have to stress to you the variables of most importance. We _must_ get this item away from Klink and Grayson, McCoy, and I _must_ escape before this general gets here."

Hogan looked at him sharply. "Escape?" he said. "That can't just happen to you and Grayson. We keep Klink in that office under our thumb because he has an 'impeccable' no-escape record, do you understand? We can get McCoy out quickly enough, but you and Grayson are already registered. We'd have to get you transferred."

Kirk stiffened. This was a problem. He narrowed his eyes at the coffeepot/listening device and thought back to the well-hidden tunnel. Spock was so concerned about not letting the phaser fall into the Nazis' hands that he may have missed the danger of completing their mission and vanishing back through the Guardian without a trace- leaving Hogan and his men to suffer the fallout.

"Listen to me," he broached. "We had an immediate extraction plan once we recovered McCoy. As soon as we get that ph- object in our possession, we leave immediately. If you don't want your protective escape record ruined, then we need to find a way to bend those rules _before_ we get the item."

"I know, I'm thinking," Hogan said. His eyes zeroed in on McCoy's tricorder. "Can that thing or the one Klink has help us in any way?"

"What, the tricorder?" McCoy asked, startled. "Don't see how."

"Maybe not the tricorder, but maybe…" Kirk sucked in a breath and levelled Hogan.

"Not breaching classified information, but I can confirm that the object is a weapon."

Hogan nodded, understanding his seriousness. "Can I ask if it's a weapon that detonates?"

"You can," Kirk answered. He made a show of tilting his head back and forth. "It _can_ ," he addressed, still hinting towards the phaser's ambiguity, but that it was possible.

Carter barely managed to squelch his excitement. Newkirk elbowed him.

"Alright," Hogan said. "You mentioned Grayson is watching this weapon. We'll confirm with him, but Klink's probably going to put it in his safe. We don't have much time before Burkhalter gets here. Get the commander over here, and we'll all go over the plan…"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you for bearing with me thus far.**

* * *

Instead of rapping his knuckles on the door to Klink's office, Hogan simply opened it and walked in. "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" Klink replied automatically, not looking up from his desk.

"Colonel."

"Colonel who?" Klink's head snapped up immediately just in time to see Hogan's wide grin.

"Colonel-"

"Hogan!" Klink shouted, then groaned to himself. "What do you want?" he asked irritably.

"Actually, sir, it's not about what I want, but what the men want." He walked over and blatantly opened the cigar box.

Klink slammed it shut. "And just what do they want?"

"Well, they'd like some butter to go with the white bread you're finally handing out."

Klink sneered sarcastically. "Would they like some cloth napkins, as well?"

Hogan shrugged. "Well, if you have any lying around…"

"Hogan! You spoil your men! First bread, now butter! I have half a mind to take away it all!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Hogan said innocently. "We really appreciate your generosity. We just figured it wouldn't hurt to ask for a little extra to celebrate with."

"Celebrate? What's the celebration?"

"Oh, nothing big," Hogan waved him off. "Just that rumor has it that Hammelburg Road's been mined. We figure a car will have to cross it today or tomorrow, and thought that we could have some butter with our bread while we enjoy the fireworks."

"The road? Mined?" Klink stood up, spooked. "Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, you know, guards go on furlough, guards hear rumors in the town, guards come back and tell their buddies…" He shrugged. "It's about the only excitement we get around here."

"General Burkhalter is coming here!" Klink exclaimed, wringing his hands nervously. "What am I going to do if he gets hit by a mine?"

"Well, maybe you can give us some garlic salt with that butter."

Klink shook a fierce finger at him. "Hogan! That isn't funny. The general's due here today! How is it going to get cleared of mines?"

"Don't look at me."

Klink looked at Hogan. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Hogan, I want you to prepare your men for a roadside detail."

Hogan's eyes widened. "What? No way! I'm not going to let my men be mine-bait!"

"Who said anything about landmines? Your men are simply going to clean up trash on Hammelburg Road. If they happen to find anything metallic, then they shall simply dispose of it with the rest of the litter."

Hogan crossed his arms. "Fine. But I'm going to keep the number small- I don't like risking my men in a sanitation cleanup."

Klink waved him off as he sat back down. "Have them report to Schultz immediately. Dismissed."

With a smirk and a sloppy salute, Hogan left.

Outside, he met Kirk and Grayson in the yard. He looked around, analyzing everyone.

"You sure your weapon will be big enough to be convincing?" he confirmed.

"Absolutely," Kirk stated.

"Okay. The roadside detail is good to go." He eyed Kirk. "You don't mind losing something as secret as this?"

"That's for me to worry about." Kirk gave him a quick, reassuring smile. "Better that no one have it if we can't."

"Right." Hogan took a deep breath, getting back to business. "You two on the cleanup with me. LeBeau!" Hogan moved off to where LeBeau had gathered some other prisoners to attend the detail. It was smaller than most their operations, and LeBeau was the only one of his core group tagging along. It was time to move; the clock was ticking.

* * *

"Room service!"

Carter and Newkirk barged into Klink's office waving dusters, a broom, and other cleaning supplies. The roadside detail had left the camp, but that wasn't the only place that needed cleaning out today.

"Sorry about the mess, Kommandant, but we'll get it right 'n' tidied up for ya," Newkirk rambled. He vigorously dusted the WWI helmet on the desk before attending the desk itself – scattering all of Klink's papers in the process.

"You imbeciles!" Klink cried. "Can't you see I'm working?"

"So are we," Carter said.

"Busy day," Newkirk added.

Klink made a strained little sound before he started chasing after Newkirk's duster of destruction. He violently straightened his mess of papers as Carter called out.

"Hey Newkirk? I'm going to get the wax, now."

"Right-o."

"Wax? What wax?" Klink chased Carter out into Hilda's front office, where even more cleaning supplies waited. Hilda silently got up and closed the door as the two men squawked on.

"You know, the wax for the hardwood floors! They have to be waxed at least once a year," Carter explained, hefting a bottle of liquid up. "You want them all polished for when the general arrives, don't you?"

"I don't care about wax or polish, I-!" With his arms flailing about, Carter pretended to be hit and spilled half the bottle on the floor. Klink immediately slipped and landed hard on his back, both legs flying up into the air.

"Geez, commandant, I'm so sorry!" Carter apologized to the warbling colonel. He sloshed more 'wax' all over the floor as he tried to help Klink to his feet, only for the colonel to slip and fall again.

"Carter!"

...

As soon as Hilda had closed the door, Newkirk got to work.

He crouched in front of the safe and rubbed his hands together. Grayson had watched Klink from the window and confirmed that their little weapon was inside. Newkirk started spinning the dial.

"Alright, my princess," he whispered. "Let's 'ave a look at your jewels."

In no time it popped open. He glanced over his shoulder, still hearing the sounds of the distraction outside. Good.

Peering inside, it didn't take long to find what he was looking for. A little black object, smaller than the tricorder, rested on the top shelf. Two fused buttons gleamed on top of it, and with a small thrill of nervousness Newkirk pocketed it. This weapon could detonate? This weapon could win the war?

He shut the safe and tried not to jostle where the weapon resided. He did not want it to go off accidentally.

Newkirk grasped his duster right as the door opened again for Carter helping a slipping, sliding Klink make it to his desk. Carter was apologizing profusely with every step, though was responsible for making Klink stumble every other foot.

"How'd the waxing go, Carter?" Newkirk interrupted the flustered commandant.

Klink gripped his desk as soon as he was close enough. "Both of you! Out!"

"But sir, don't want your office cleaned?"

"OUT!" Klink yelled.

Shrugging, Newkirk and Carter obliged. Orders were orders.

"Watch out for the puddle," Carter mentioned when they were out.

"Thanks." Newkirk winked at Hilda as they passed. "Thanks for getting the door, luv."

"Tell Hogan 'thank you' for the nylons," she blushed.

"Will do."

They dragged the cleaning supplies outside and started hauling them back. "You got the doohickey?" Carter whispered.

"Yeah, an' it's bloody scaring me. Don't want to hit the buttons and make it go off."

"Well, there's normally a safety on these kind of things," Carter tried to reassure him.

Newkirk gulped. "I didn't see one 'ere, mate. Let's get to this to the tunnel as quickly as possible."

* * *

McCoy paced up and down the tunnel. He was in his black undershirt with his blue uniform balled up in his hands. Kinch was also wearing all black for their part of the plan. It didn't stop his restlessness. He jumped when he heard a gun click, but it was just Kinch loading a clip in his pistol. The man looked up and smiled at him. "You nervous?"

"A little," he confessed. "I still feel like I hardly know what's going on."

"Well, rest assured, the colonel's plans always work. I just hope your Captain Kirk can get you home the rest of the way."

McCoy chuckled. "I know Kirk's plans always work- I just hope your Colonel Hogan can get us to the correct spot."

They shared a smile.

The moment was interrupted by a commotion from the bunk's entrance. Newkirk dropped down into the tunnel and raced towards them. That must mean Carter was watching the door upstairs. So far everything was going to plan.

"You got the weapon?" Kinch asked.

Newkirk nodded and gingerly reached into his pocket. He pulled out the phaser almost too delicately.

McCoy walked over and took it from him. He tucked it on his belt under his shirt. Newkirk watched him. "That a safe spot, mate?"

"Normally, he answered. "It's not dangerous if you know how to use it."

"Things can still be dangerous even when you know exactly what you're doing," Kinch pointed out, lifting his pistol.

McCoy swallowed and nodded. "Wise words."

Kinch looked at his watch. "Okay, it's about shift change. Let's go!"

"Later, mate," Newkirk called after them.

Kinch led the way to the furthest spot in the tunnel. It ended in a ladder leading up to a piece of wood. McCoy tied his shirt around his waist as Kinch climbed up and eased the piece of wood open. He watched something outside for several minutes, occasionally ducking down, before finally opening it further and motioning McCoy up.

They crept out of the… tree stump?... and crouched low in the woods. The camp seemed very close, and McCoy's senses jumped to full alertness as he looked for any guards. Glancing at Kinch, he felt conspicuous even with the bright blue only around his waist. Unfortunately, there was no safe way to leave the contamination behind. He wondered what Kirk and Spock had done with their uniforms.

"Now," Kinch whispered, and they darted off farther in the woods. McCoy knew why they were being extra careful. Daylight operations were always riskier.

They moved as quickly as they could through the trees, pausing occasionally to listen for any sounds of patrols. They seemed to be making good time; if they kept this pace they should beat Hogan and Kirk to the meeting point by virtue of off-road travel.

McCoy took his shirt from his waist, tied the sleeves around the back of his neck, and stuffed the body down the front of his undershirt. He couldn't take the possibility of the bold color being spotted among the greenery anymore. His hand kept straying to his belt, as well, to ensure that the phaser was still there. His other hand steadied the tricorder.

As they made their way down a dip, Kinch slowed. McCoy could glimpse a road off through the trees. They belly-crawled as close to it as they dared before finally hunkering down to wait. The road rose up a hill to their right before disappearing down the other way over the crest.

McCoy wiggled close and whispered to Kinch. "As soon as Kirk and Sp-Grayson come over the ridge, take off. This sucker's going to make one helluva boom."

Kinch nodded. He checked his pistol, then looked at McCoy. "We're never going to know what it and the tricorder are about, are we?" he said softly.

McCoy closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It's too dangerous."

The sergeant simply nodded again. "Nor how you got here, or how you're leaving?"

The doctor gave a rueful smile. "Classified."

"Don't worry," Kinch said. "I understand."

An engine sounded in the distance. Both men immediately flattened themselves. Peering through the bushes, they watched as car drove into view, heading towards the hill.

Kinch swore under his breath, eyes wide. "That's General Burkhalter's car."

"Now?" McCoy exclaimed. "I thought he wasn't due until-"

"C'mon!" Kinch was already surging up as the car passed them. "They're still on the other side of the hill!"

McCoy scrambled to his feet and pelted after him.

* * *

"Hey, Schultz," Hogan called to the portly man. "Give us a break, will ya? Look how far the men have come without having died yet."

Schultz winced and stamped his foot. "Please don't _talk_ like that, Col. Hogan, you might set off a landmine!"

"I'm not trying to jinx us, Schultzie," Hogan commented. "Just saying this hill's a good a place as any for a late lunch. You remember lunch, right Schultz? Come on…"

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz pleaded. "I just want to get back to camp. The sooner we finish, the sooner we go to where there are no landmines. What if I sit on one while I eat?"

"You're right, that might be a problem," Hogan admitted. "Here, why don't we rest near the top, and I'll send a couple men to scout the other side of the hill, to make sure no landmines will flatten it? That sound fair?"

He was hardly finishing his sentence, and ready to motion Kirk and Grayson over, when LeBeau came running down towards him. "Colonel! Colonel!" he panted.

"What, LeBeau?"

"General Burkhalter's car is here!" he gasped.

"What?"

Hogan started jogging the remaining distance to the top of the hill. Burkhalter wasn't due till this evening, unless… unless he hadn't been all the way in Berlin when Klink called. He hurried upwards faster. Waving, LeBeau made sure the other prisoners followed. The two other guards jogged along the edges with him with their spry dogs. Schultz groaned against the incline, barely bringing up the rear.

Kirk was suddenly next to him as he looked down the far side of the hill, Grayson trailing behind him. Sure enough, the flags on the staff car gave away its very familiar occupant. They couldn't sell a stretch of road as mined when a _car_ had already driven over it. "We need a plan B?" he whispered to Hogan.

Hogan's eyes flicked to the woods on their left. "Kinch and McCoy had to have seen this," he murmured. He thought quickly.

"LeBeau, make sure _all_ the prisoners are up here, starting down this side of the ridge. Kirk, Grayson, take the far rear. We'll see if we can reverse the scenario."

"Logical," Grayson commented.

Kirk started to move away, but stopped long enough to put a hand on Hogan's shoulder. He looked him in the eye. "Whatever happens, thank you for this."

"A duty and a pleasure," Hogan replied, though half-distracted. "Go."

The staff car had slowed down upon seeing all the people standing in the road. A gasping, wheezing Schultz finally made it to Hogan's position, only to moan as Hogan started walking down towards the car. Hustling downhill, Schultz made a little better time in keeping up.

"General Burkhalter, what a surprise to see you!" Hogan flashed a smile at the backseat.

The man did not look amused. "Schultz!" he addressed past him. "Why are these prisoners outside of camp?"

Schultz snapped to a salute. "Herr General, roadside cleanup! Landmine detail!"

"Landmines?" Burkhalter barked. "What landmines?"

"Rumors of landmines along this road, General," Hogan supplied smoothly. "Klink made us guinea pigs."

"I haven't heard about any landmines," Burkhalter harrumphed. "If this car has made it this far on this road, then are no landmines!"

Hogan smiled past his clenching gut. "Excellent news, sir. It means we can call it a day early, once we finish up. Isn't that right, Schultz?"

"Right!" Schultz crowed. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his sweating brow.

Burkhalter sneered at the prisoners and dogs milling in front of the car. "Sergeant, why don't you tell these men to move? If they've made it to this same point with no mines, then the road is cleared in both directions!"

"Just a minute, sir," Hogan pressed. "We're technically just finishing up the other side of the hill. Once the last of my men cross over, then we'll know we're good to go-"

"I don't care about your men, Hogan, now let me through!"

Hogan closed his eyes.

* * *

McCoy and Kinch watched as everyone crowded around the top of the hill. When LeBeau started running around getting people firmly on the other side, the men understood. Kinch patted McCoy's back as they saw Kirk and Grayson break off surreptitiously back down the first side.

"Good luck," he said.

"Thanks," McCoy smiled. He stood and took off parallel in the woods towards the bottom of the hill. Kinch watched them get closer together, then started slinking back the way they'd come. Time to get out before the boom.

McCoy jogged out of the woods towards Kirk and Spock, glancing rapidly towards the crest that held the main commotion. He pulled out the phaser. "So how does this next part work, Jim?"

"I don't know," Kirk replied, tense. "The Guardian simply said we would be returned."

"Guardian? Returned where?"

"Later, Doctor," Spock interrupted. He looked around. "Are you certain you brought nothing else with you?"

"Look, I got my shirt, the tricorder, the phaser, didn't have any communicator," McCoy crossed his arms. "Are either of _you_ leaving something behind?"

"Doctor, only garbage that is routinely incinerated by the homeless, I-"

"Bones! Spock!" They whirled towards Kirk and saw a portal opening up before them. A dry and dark landscape looked back at them.

"Bones, set the phaser on overload, now," Kirk commanded. Above, they heard the rumble and stutter of a car engine turning back on.

McCoy complied and tossed the phaser a short distance away at the base of the hill. The tell-tale whine started cueing up.

"McCoy, in," Kirk pushed him forward and turned back. They had to make sure that phaser went off, or else Hogan and his men were doomed.

"Jim-"

" _Now_ , Bones!"

"Jim, I can't, it's not letting me through!"

The panicked note whipped Kirk's attention from the phaser. McCoy's hand was stopped on an invisible barrier. Spock took the tricorder from the doctor and started rapidly playing through its memory. Kirk glanced back at the phaser. It was almost loud enough for the people on the other side to start noticing.

"Spock! Tell me you've got an answer!"

"Only a theory, Captain," he responded quickly. "There may be a temporal element to our travel. There's a chance that if we step through the time portal in the exact same, but reverse order from when we left, we may be allowed passage."

"Reverse…?" The phaser whined louder. "McCoy, follow right behind us!" Kirk commanded.

He and Spock jumped through the portal at the same time. McCoy watched them disappear, then heard the phaser's pitch warble ominously. It was time.

"Oh, _God!_ " he shouted and leapt through the barrier.

Then a shockwave shattered the world.


	9. Epilogue

**A/N: Well, this is the end, folks. Yes, I focused mostly on the HH part, because the ST part didn't feel wholly necessary. This has been a long, grueling fic that really tried my patience at times, yet I'm fairly content with the result. If any of y'all have questions, nitpicks, or loopholes, let me know. I can try to fill them in as best I can, though I only have a couple of the updated/edited chapters. Wow. I'm really tired. I'll stop talking and let y'all enjoy the rest of the story.**

* * *

 _What happened sir? Y'only left a moment ago._

 _We were successful._

 _Captain, I've reestablished contact with the Enterprise. They're asking if we would like to beam up_ _…_

Hogan had his eyes closed. Without the visual distraction of the general, he realized he could faintly hear an increasing whine off in the distance. Burkhalter ordered the car started up again, and his eyes flew open as the engine rumbled to life.

"Wait, sir, you really should-"

A loud and bright _boom_ suddenly shook the entire hill. Everybody not in the car hit the dirt as fast as they could. It felt like the hill got _punched_ , and Hogan reckoned that it had absorbed most of the shockwave for this side. He hoped Kirk and the others made it.

A car door opened and Burkhalter struggled out and fell on the dirt next to him. Hogan propped himself up on his elbow. "Aren't you glad you waited, sir?"

The men slowly started getting to their feet. There was minor chaos as the two other guards and LeBeau tried to calm the barking dogs. Hogan jogged up to the crest and looked down. His eyes bugged. An impressive crater was at the bottom of the hill. Fortunately, neither Kirk, Grayson, nor McCoy were anywhere to be seen. He let out a sigh of relief. The plan seemed to have worked.

Burkhalter was back on his feet and yelling at Schultz. The poor sergeant seemed especially shaken, though Hogan couldn't tell if it was mostly from the explosion or the chewing out. He met up with LeBeau and they got closer to the argument.

"-how could you miss a landmine? With all these prisoners! And the dogs! And your fat belly!"

Schultz trembled. "Herr, Herr General, please…"

"The prisoners didn't miss any mines," Hogan interrupted brusquely. "Because I just lost two of my men! That mine took out Kirk and Grayson- and you can bet the Geneva Convention will hear about this!"

"Are they dead, Hogan?" Burkhalter fumed. "Or are you covering their escape?"

"What set off the mine, then?" Hogan answered with enough anger to make it believable. "There's a large crater on the other side, with only a few bits of them scattered around the edges!"

Burkhalter's driver finally grew some nerves and spoke up. "C-can I drive the car over that c-crater?"

"You can get it in, but good luck getting it out," Hogan replied. "Looks like we're all walking back."

"Walking all the way to Stalag 13?" The general's voice rose an octave. "Let me see that crater!"

He pushed past them and labored up the hill. Everyone followed, and looked down to what the general was seeing. Finally, after catching his breath, Burkhalter crossed his arms.

"I can hardly believe it," he muttered. "I want all the prisoners walking in front of us, Sergeant. In case there are any _other_ mines you missed."

"Jawohl!" Schultz saluted.

Burkhalter scowled at the still-barking dogs. "Put them up front, too. Might as well make them useful."

"Wait, those are mine-sniffing dogs?" LeBeau wondered. "I thought they were the anti-tank breed."

"SCHNELL!" Burkhalter snapped. Then Hogan heard him mutter, "Klink's discovery had better be worth this…"

* * *

 _"_ _But General, I promise you, it was right here!"_

 _"_ _You promised?!"_

 _"_ _General, please!"_

The gang chuckled from around the coffeepot. It was always fun to hear Klink squirm.

 _"_ _Klink! I don't know why I bothered coming out here. First, I am almost blown up by a landmine. Next I have to_ walk _to Stalag 13. Then I slip on some unknown substance in your front office_ _…"_

Carter and Newkirk grinned at each other.

 _"…_ _and now you have no 'unusual object' to show me!"_

 _"_ _May I remind you, General, that it hasn't been a good day for me, either._ Two _of my prisoners have been killed!"_

 _"_ _Consider yourself lucky that it wasn't me."_

"Alright, alright," Hogan pulled the plug as the grins and chuckles increased. "It's been an interesting past few days, but now it's back to the grind. The war hasn't stopped, you know."

There were a few groans as the men filed out. Hogan started putting away the pot and noticed Kinch lingering by the door, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Something on your mind, Kinch?"

He looked over at him. "Just their devices, Colonel. If we're developing technology like that, whatever it does, well…" he shook his head, though a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. His mind was on a checkers game. "It's just nice having some hope for the future."


End file.
